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^1  i-*-^i**«*»*.M>W-u**«^U««k»*»Wi**»«*  'w**HW«i***"' 


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aire 

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lllustrent  la  mdthode. 


>d  by  errata 
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ADfeLE    Dubois: 


^   Storn 


or   TlIK 


LOVELY    MIllAMlCHf    VALLKY, 


V. 


-3., 


'i'H-fl^  \. 


NEW  BRUNSWICK. 


V  J . 


":;n    ;\.>5 


c_ 


LORIlSrG,    PublishG 

nio    Wasiiinoton    Stbket, 
BOSTON. 


V 


Entered,  Recording  to  Act  of  ConRremi,  In  the  year  IRflfl,  by 

A  .     K .     li  O  U  I  ^  0  , 

In  the  Clerk's  Ofllc«  of  the  DUtrta  Court  for  tlio  District  uf  Miusachuactta. 


n  O  C  K  W  E  L  I.      «    It  O  I,  I,  I  JJ  H  , 
rlimU   AHO    STKBKOTTPIUSI,    12'2   WASIIINOTOK    8TK(ET,   B08T0W, 


year  IWW,  by 

lot  of  Miusachusetta. 


MIRAMICIII. 


CIIAFrER  I. 


TllE   PUIJOHS   HOUSE. 


rHIET,   B08T0K, 


••"VYell,  verily,  I  (lid  n't  expect  to  find  anything  like 
this,  ii*uch  a  wild  region,"  aiiid  Mr.  Norton,  as  he  HCttlcd 
himself  comfortiibly  in  a  euriou.>jly  earvcd,  old-fashioned 
arm-ehah-,  before  the  fire  that  blazed  ehecrily  on  the  broad 
hearth  of  the  Dubois  House.  "  'Tis  not  a  Yankee  family 
either,"  added  he,  mentally.  "Everything  agreeable  and 
tidy,  but  it  looks  unlike  home.  It  is  an  Elim  in  the  desert  1 
Goodly  palmtrces  and  abundant  water  I  O  1  why,"  ho 
exclaimed  aloud,  in  an  impatient  tone,  as  if  eluding  hini- 
eelf,  •'  should  I  ever  distrust  tjie  goodness  of  the  Lord?" 

The  firelight,  playing  over  his  honest  face,  re\caled  eyes 
,  moistened  with  the  gratitude  welling  up  in  his  heart.     He 
*8at  a  few  minutes  gazing  at  the  glowing  logs,  and  then  his 
eyelids  closed  in  the  blessed  calm  of  sleep.     Weary  trav- 
eller I     He  has  well  cai-ned  repose. 

There  will  not  be  time,  during  liis  brief  nap,  to  tell  who 
and  what  he  was,  and  why  he  had  come  to  sojourn  far  away 


■r 


8 


MIRAMICIII. 


from  home  and  friends.  But  let  tlio  curtain  l)c  drawn  buck 
for  a  moment,  to  reveal  a  {,'limi)8C  of  that"  strange,  ques- 
tionable country  over  wliioli  ho  has  been  wandering  for  the 
last  few  months,  doinjj  hard  Hcrvice. 

Miramichi,*  a  name  unfamiliar,  perhaps,  to  those  who 
may  chance  to  read  thc^e  pnt^cs,  is  the  di'siMjuutioii  nf  a 
fertile,  thou<{h  partially  cultivated  portion  of  the  iiii|)orttjnt 
province  of  New  IJrunswick,  belonffinfj;  to  the  Ihitinh 
Crown.  The  name,  by  no  nicauH  unt.iii)honioi»,  is  yet 
euj^gestivc  of  awHociationa  far  from  attractive.  The  jSIiro- 
michi  Kivcr,  which  {^ivcs  title  to  this  rcj^ion,  has  its  riso 
near  the  centre  of  the  provnicc,  luid  llowin^i;  eastward  emp- 
ties into  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrcsnce,  with  Chatham,  a  town 
of  considerable  importance,  located  at  its  mouth.  ^ 

The  land  had  originally  been  settled  by  English,  Scotch, 
and  Irish,  whose  business  consisted  mostly  of  fishing  and 
lumbering.  These  occupations,  pursued  in  a  wayward  and 
lawless  manner,  liad  not  exerted  on  them  an  elevating  or 
refining  influence,  and  the  character  of  the  people  had 
degenerated  from  year  to  year.  Frcjm  the  i-emotencss  and 
obscurity  of  the  country,  it  had  become  a  convenient  hiding- 
place  for  the  outlaw  and  the  criminal,  and  its  surface  was 
sprinkled  over  with  the  refuse  and  offscouring  of  the  New 
England  States  and  the  Province.  Witli  a  i'v.w  rare  excep- 
tions, it  was  a  realm  of  almost  heathenish  darkness  and 
vice.  Sucli  Mr.  Norton  found  it,  when,  with  heart  full  of 
compassion  and  benevolence,  thirty-five  years  ago,  he  camo 

♦  Pronounced  Mir'imuhee. 


I 


i 


tfiin  1)0  (Iniwii  buck 

liiit '  strniif^o,  quca- 

wundoring  for  tlic 

nps,  to  those  who 

0  (K'siMiiiitioii  of  t\ 
II  of  the  importi^iit 
ifj^  to  tlic  Dritirih 
'iil>h{)iiiow,  is  yot 
etivo.  The  Mhu- 
p^ion,  has  its  riso 
'm<r  eastward  crnp- 
i  Chatiiam,  ii  town 

1  mouth.  0 

y  English,  Scotdi, 
itly  of  fishing  and 
in  a  wayward  and 
m  an  ohnatlng  or 
f  the  people  had 
ho  rcniotcncss  and 
convenient  hiding- 
nd  its  sui'fiice  waa 
juring  of  the  New 
1  a  i'v.w  rare  excop- 
tiish  darkness  and 
,  with  heart  full  of 
'Cars  ago,  he  camo 


MlIiAMICIII. 


9 


to  luiir  the  nwssngo  of  heavenly  love  and  furgivencis  t  > 
lhes(!  dwellers  in  deatli  shadi'. 

The  Duhois  1  louse,  where  Afr.  Norton  had  foinid  shelter 
for  the  night,  was  situated  on  (he  northern  hank  of  (ho 
river,  ahout  sixty  miles  west  from  Chafhntn.  It  was  a 
respeetahlc  looking,  two  story  huilding,  with  large  banw 
adjaeent.  Standing  on  tv  graceful  hend  of  the  hntad 
stream,  it  eonunanded  river  views,  several  miles  in  extent, 
in  two  (Ureetions,  with  a  nearer  prospect  around,  coiisistin" 
of  reaehoa  of  tall  forest,  interspersed  with  occasional  .. pun- 
lugs,  made  hy  the  rude  settlera. 

lieing  the  only  dwelling  in  the  neighhorhood  sufRciently 
eonunodious  for  (he  purpose,  its  occui)ants,  maki'  •  u  virtue 
of  neeessify,  iv/t..  in  the  h:>lnt  of  entertaining  occ.ioioiml 
travellers  who  happened  to  visit  the  region. 

Ihit,  softly, — Mr.  Norton  has  wakened.  lie  was  just 
beginning  to  drc^am  of  home  and  its  dear  delights,  when  a 
<loor-lat(!h  was  lifted,  and  a  young  girl  entering,  began  to 
make  pre])arations  for  sui)per.  She  moved  (juickly  towaida 
the  tire,  and  with  a  pair  of  iron  tongs,  deftly  raised  the 
ponderous  cover  of  tli<'  Dutch  oven,  hanging  over  the 
blaze.  The  wheaten  rolls  it  contained  were  nearly  baked, 
and  emitted  a  fragrant  and  appetizing  odor. 

She  refitted  the  cover,  and  then  openiiig  a  closet,  took 
from  it  a  lacfpiered  Chinese  tea-caddy  and  a  silver  urn,  and 
proceeded  to  arrange  the  tea-table. 

JNIr.  Norton,  observing  her  attentively  with  his  keen, 
gray  eyes,  asked,  "  How  long  has  your  father  lived  in  this 
place,  my  child?" 


/ 


10 


MIPwVMICni. 


The  maiilcu  paused  in  her  cinplojnncnt,  and  glancing  at 
the  broad,  stalwart  form  and  shrewd  yet  honest  face  ol"  the 
questioner,  replied,  "Nearly  twenty  \ears,  sir." 

i\Ir.  Norton's  quick  cur  immediately  detected  in  her 
words  a  delicate,  foreign  accent,  quite  unfamiliai-  to  him. 
After  a  moment's  silence  he  spoke  again. 

"Dubois,  —  that  is  your  name,  is  it  not?     A  French 

name  r 

"  Yes,  sir,  my  parents  arc  natives  of  France." 

"  Ah  !  indeed  !  "  responded  Mr.  Norton,  and  the  family 

in  which  he  found  himself  was  immediately  mvestcd  with 

new  interest  in  his  eyes. 

"^Miereis  your  father  at  the  present  time,  my  dear 

child?" 

"He  is  away  at  Fredericton.  He  has  gone  to  obtain 
family  supplies.  I  hope  he  is  not  obhgcd  to  be  out  this 
stonny  night,  but  I  fcur  he  is." 

She  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  on  her  breast  and  glanced 

upward. 

IVIr.  Norton  observed  the  movement,  and  at  the  same 
time  saw,  what  liad  before  escaped  his  notice,  a  string  of 
glittering,  black  beads  upon  her  neck,  with  a  black  cross, 
half  liidden  by  the  folds  in  the  waist  of  her  dress.  It  was 
an  instant  revelation  to  him  of  the  faith  in  which  she  had 
been  trained.     He  fell  into  a  fit  of  musing.     . 

Li  the  mean  time,  Adelc  Dubois  completed  her  prepara- 
tions for  the  tea-table,  —  not  one  of  her  accustomed  duties, 
but  one  wliich  she  sometimes  took  a  fancy  to  perform. 

She  w\a8  sixteen  years  old,  — tall  already,  and  rapidly 


I 


,  and  glancing  at 
lioncst  face  of  tlic 
s,  ,Kir." 

detected   in   licr 
mfamiliax-  to  him. 

not?     A  French 

France." 

m,  and  the  family 

tely  invested  ■with 

at  time,  my  dear 

las  ffone  to  obtain 
;cd  to  be  out  this 


breast  and  glanced 


and  at  the  samo 
lotice,  a  string  of 
itli  a  black  cross, 
icr  dress.  It  was 
in  which  she  had 

dieted  her  prcpara- 
accustomed  duties, 
y  to  perform, 
ready,  and  rapidly 


MTR^vjiicnr. 


11 


I 


growing  taller,  with  a  figure  neither  large,  nor  slender. 
Her  conii)Icxiou  was  pui'e  white,  scarcely  tinged  with 
ri),<e ;  her  eyes  Avcre  large  and  brown,  now  shooting  out  a 
l)right,  joyous  light,  then  veiled  in  dreamy  shadows.  A 
rich  mass  of  dark  hau*  was  divided  into  braids,  gracefully 
looped  up  around  her  head.  Her  dress  was  composed  of  a 
plain  red  material  of  wool.  Her  only  ornaments  were  the 
rosary  and  cross  on  her  neck. 

A  mulatto  girl  now  appeared  from  the  adjoming  kitchen 
and  placed  upon  tlie  table  a  dish  of  cold,  sliced  chicken, 
boiled  eggs  and  pickles,  together  with  the  steammg  wheat- 
en  rolls  froiu  *;ie  Dutch  oven. 

Adele  ha\mg  put  some  tea  in  the  m-n,  poured  boihng 
water  upon  it  and  left  the  room. 

Ectm-ning  in  a  few  minutes,  accompanied  by  her  mother 
and  ]Mi-s.  ]McXab,  they  soon  di-ew  up  around  the  tea-table. 
■\Vhen  seated,  iMrs.  Dubois  and  Adele  made  the  sign  of 
the  cross  and  closed  their  eyes.  Mrs.  IMcXab,  glancing  a,*, 
them  depreoatingly  for  a  moment,  at  length  fixed  her  gaze 
on  Mr.  Norton,  lie  also  closed  his  eyes  and  asked  a 
mute  blessing  upon  the  food. 

]\Irs.  Dubois  was  endowed  with  delicate  features,  a  soft, 
IMadonna  like  expression  of  countenance,  elegance  of  move- 
ment and  a  quiet,  yet  gi-acious  manner.  Attentive  to 
those  around  the  board,  she  said  but  little.  Occasionally, 
she  listened  in  abstracted  mood  to  the  beatmg  storm 
without. 

Mrs.  McXab,  a  middle-aged  Scotch  woman,  with  a 
short,  square,  ample  form,  filled  up  a  large  portion  of  the 


- ' 


12 


MIUAMICIII. 


siile  of  the  tiil)lo  slio  occupied.  Ilor  coarso-foatiirod,  heavy 
face,  t^iirroiindcd  hy  a  hroad,  muslin  cap  frill,  that  nearly 
et)vcred  her  harsh  yellow  hair,  was  lighted  uj)  by  a  pair  of 
small  }i,ray  eyes,  exprcssinj,^  a  mL\tiu*e  of  cunning  and  curi- 
osity, llcr  rubicund  visage,  gaudy-colored  chintz  dress, 
and  yellow  bandanna  handkerchief,  produced  a  sort  of 
glaring  sun-flower  effect,  not  mitigated  by  the  contrast 
afl'ordi'd  by  the  other  members  of  the  group. 

"  ]Madam,"  said  ]Mr.  Norton  to  INIrs.  Dubois,  on  seeing 
her  glance  anxiously  at  the  windows,  as  the  wild,  equinoc- 
tial gale  caused  them  to  clatter  violently,  'ido  you  fear 
that  your  husband  is  exposed  to  any  particular  danger  at 
this  time?" 

"  No  special  danger.  J^ut  it  is  a  lawless  coimtry.  The 
ni'dit  is  dark  and  the  storm  is  loud.  I  wish  he  were 
safely  at  home,"  replied  the  lady.     ' 

*'Y()ur  solicitude  is  not  strange.  But  you  may  trust 
him  with  the  Lord.  Under  His  protection,  not  a  hau-  of 
his  head  can  be  touched." 

Before  Mrs.  Dubois  had  time  to  reply,  Mrs.  IMcNab, 
looking  rather  fiercely  at  iMr.  Norton,  said,  "  Yer  dinna 
suppose,  sir,  if  the  Lord  had  decreed  from  all  eternity 
that  ]Mr.  Doobyce  should  be  drowned,  or  rabbed,  or  nmr- 
»  dcrcd  to-night,  that  our  prayiu'  an'  trustin'  wad  cause 
llim  to  revoorse  His  foreordained  purpose?  Adely,"  she 
contuuicd,  "  I  dinna  mind  if  I  take  anither  ogg  an'  a  trifle 
more  o'  chicken  an'  some  pickle." 

]>y  no  means  taken  aback  by  this  pointed  inquiry,  iNIr. 
Nt)rtou   replied  very  gently,   "I  believe,  ma'am,  in  the 


i 


] 

r 
t 

V 

h 
ai 

y 


ri 
la 

fr( 

a  J 

6t€ 


•so-foatiired,  heavy 
)  frill,  tlijit  nearly 
■d  up  by  a  pair  of 
cunning  and  curi- 
Drod  chintz  dress, 
•oduced  a  sort  of 
I  by  the  contrast 
group. 

Dubois,  on  seeing 
the  wild,  equinoc- 
ly,  'i  do  you  fear 
.rticidar  danger  at 

less  country.     The 
I  wish  he  were 

iut  you  may  trust 
ition,  not  a  hau"  of 

ply,  Mrs.  jNIcNab, 
said,  "  Yer  dinna 
I  from  all  eternity 
or  rabbcd,  or  niur- 
rustiu'  wad  cause 
lose?  Adcly,"  she 
lier  cgj;  an'  a  trifle 

)inted  inquiry,  INfr. 
ve,  ma'am,  in  the 


i 


MlKAJWIcm. 


13 


power  of  prayer  to  move  (he  Almighty  throne,  when  it 
comes  from  a  sincere  and  humble  heart,  and  that  lie  will 
bestow  His  blessing  in  return." 

"  Weel,"  said  Mrs.  McNab,  -  I  was  brought  up  in  the 
«hurch  o  Scotland,  and  dinna  believe  anything  auent  this 
new-light  doctiine  o'  God's  bein'  tm-ned  roun'  an'  o-ivin' 
up  ins  decrees  an'  a'  that.  I  thi„k  it 's  the  ward  o'  Satan," 
and  she  passed  her  cup  to  be  again  refilled  with  tea 

Adele,  who  had  noticed  that  Mrs.  McXab's  observations 
had  suggested  new  solicitudes  to  her  mother's  mind,  re- 
marked,  "What  you  said  just  now,  Aunt  Patty,  is  not 
very  consoling.     Whoever  thought  that  my  father  wouhl 
meet  with  anything  worse  than  perhaps  being  drenched  by 
the  storm,  and  half  eaten  up  with  vemiin  in  the  dirty  inns 
where  he  will  have  to  lodge?    I  do  not  doubt  he  will  be 
home  in  good  time." 

-  Yes,  Miss  Adcly,  yes.  I  ken  it,"  said  Aunt  Patty, 
aa  she  saw  a  finn,  defiant  expression  gathering  in  the 
young  gu-Ps  countenance.  -I'd  a  dream  anent  bun  last 
night  that  makes  me  think  he's  comin." 

"  Ila*  !  "  said  Adele,  starting  and  speaking  in  a  clear 
nngmg  tone,  -he  has  come.     I  heai-  his  voice  on  the 
lawn," 

Murmuring  a  word  or  two  of  excuse,  she  rose  instantly 
fron,  the  table,  requested  Bess,  the  servant,  to  hand  her 
a  lantern,  and  arrayed  herself  quickly  in  hood  and  cloak 

As  she  opened  the  door,  her  father  was  standing  on  the 
step,  m  the  di-iving  rain,  supporting  in  his  arms  the  form 


11. 


X' 
0 

9 


14 


MIRAinCIU. 


of  a  geutlomau,  wlio  seemed  to  be  almost  in  a  state  of 

insensibility. 

«'  Make  way  1  make  way,  A(Ulc.  Here's  a  isiok  man. 
Throw  some  blankets  on  the  floor,  and  come,  all  hands, 
and  rub  liim.     My  deal',  order  something  warm  for  hin^ 

to  drink." 

JSIi-s.  Dubois  caught  a  pile  of  bedding  from  a  neighbor- 
ing closet  and  arranged  it  upon  the  floor,  near  the  fire. 
]\£.  Dubois  laid  the  stranger  down  upon  it.  Mr.  Norton 
immediately  rose  from  the  tcu-tablc,  di-ew  off"  the  boots  of 
the  fainting  man,  and  began  to  chafe  his  feet  with  his 
warm,  broad  hand. 

"Put  a  dash  of  cold  water  on  his  face,  chHd,"  said  he 
to   Adele,    "and  he'll  come  to,  in   a  minute."     Adele 

obeyed. 

The    strfiTiger    opened  liis  eyes   suddenly   and  looked 

around  in  astonishment  upon  the  group. 

"  Alil  yes.  I  see,"  he  said,  "I  have  been  faint,  or 
eomething  of  the  kind.     I  believe  I  am  not  quite  well." 

He  attempted  to  rise,  but  sank  back,  powerless.  He 
turned  his  head  slowly  towards  Ui:  Dubois,  fSd  said, 
♦'Friend  Dubois,  I  tliink  I  am  going  to  be  ill,  and  must 
trust  myself  to  your  compassion,"  v  hen  immcthately  hia 
eyes  closed  and  liis  comitenance  assumed  the  paleness  of 

death.  _• 

"Don't  be  down-hearted,  Mr.  Brown,"  said  Mr.  Du- 
bois. "You  arc  not  used  to  tliis  ]\Iiramichi  staging. 
You'll  be  better  by  and  by.  My  dear,  give  me  the  cor- 
dial,—  he  needs  stinudating.' 


] 
1 
a 
t 
fi 

P 

St 

bl 

of 
fei 
wi 

in^ 

thr 
uri 

ecU 


T' 


Juif.uiiciir. 


15 


t  in  a  state  of 

:'s  a  sick  man. 

jinc,  all  liundd, 

warm  fox*  liim 

•om  a  ncighbor- 
,  near  the  fire. 
:.  Mr.  Norton 
off  the  boots  of 
La  feet  with  his 

I,  child,"  said  he 
ubvitc."     Adele 

nly   and  looked 

^e  been  faint,  or 
ot  quite  well." 

powerless.  He 
lubois,  d»d  said, 
be  ill,  and  must 

immediately  hia 
[  the  paleness  of 

,"  said  Mr.  Du- 
iramichi  staging, 
give  me  the  cor- 


He  took  a  n>p  of  French  brandy,  n.ixod  with  su^nr  and 
bodmg  water,  ft-om  the  hand  of  Mrs.  i,..,,,,,  ,„a  ,:,,,i,,^. 
terc.1  It  slowly  to  the  exhausted  man.  It  seo.ned  to  have 
a  cpnetmg  effect,  and  after  awlule  Mr.  Brown  sank  into  a 
ojsturbed  slumber. 

Observing  this,  and  finding  that  his  limbs,  which  had 
b^en  CO  d  and  benumbed,  were  now  thoroughly  warmed, 
Air.  Dubois  rose  from  his  kneeling  position  and  turnin.  to 
1".^  daughter,  said,  ''Now  then,  Adele,  take  the  lantern 
and  go  wnh  me  to  the  stables.  I  mnst  see  for  myself  that 
the  horses  are  properly  eared  for.  They  are  both  tired  and 
tamished. 

Adtle  cauglit  up  the  lantern,  but  Mr.  Norton  inter- 
posed ..Allow  me,  sir,  to  assist  you,"  he  said,  risiu^ 
quickly.  ..  It  ,vill  expose  the  young  lady  to  go  out  in  th: 
storm.     Let  me  go,  sir." 

He  approached  Adele  to  take  the  lattern  from  her  hand, 
but  she  di-ew  back  and  held  it  fiist. 

"I  don't  mind  weatlier,  sir, "she  sai.l,  with  a  little  sniff 
of  contempt  atihe  thought.  -  And  my  fiither  usually  pre- 
fers my  attendance.  I  thank  you.  Will  you  please  stay 
with  the  sick  gentleman  ?" 

_    air.  Norton  bowed,  smiled,  and  reseated  liimself  near  the 
mvalid. 

In  the  mean  time,  Mr.  Dubois  and  his  daughter  went 
throu-li  the  rain  to  the  stables  ;  Ins  M'ife  replenished  the  tea- 
urn  and  began  to  rearrange  tlie  table. 

Mrs.  McNab,  during  the  scene  that  had  thus  unexpect- 
ccUy  oecmi-ed,  had  been  waddling  from  one  part  of  the  room 


K 


i ;; 


'■  1 


16 


MIIJ.VMKUI. 


to  the  Other,  exclaiming,  "  Tiio  Lord  be  gxule  to  us  !"  Ilcr 
presence,  however,  sccnied  iur  tlic  time  to  be  ignored. 

AVhcn  she  heiird  the  gentle  movements  made  by  Mrs. 
Dubois  among  the  di.shes,  her  dream  seemed  i^uddcnly  to 
fade  out  of  view.  Seating  herself  again  at  the  table,  nhe 
diligently  pur.sued  lilie  task  of  finishing  her  suijper,  yet  ever 
and  anon  cxamiuing  the  prostrate  form  upon  the  floor. 

"  Peradvcnturc  he's  a  mon  fra'  the  States.  His  claithes 
look  pretty  nice.  As  ii  gcn'al  thing  them  people  fra'  the 
States  hae  i)lenty  t)'  plaek  in  thcu*  pockets.  What  do  you 
think,  su-  ?" 

"lie  is  undoubtedly  a  gentleman  from  New  England," 
said  ;Mr.  Norton. 


lia( 
yet 

h0| 

hei 
tin 

( 

we 
wo 


Sc( 
fan 
pac 
ros 
am 
cliti 
era 


rude  to  us  ! "  Ilcr 
I  be  ii^'iiorcil. 
ta  niado  by  IMr-s. 
3mcd  Huddeiily  to 
at  the  table,  who 
r  auijper,  yet  ever 
(on  tlie  floor. 
tcrf.  His  elaitlics 
m  people  fra'  the 
s.     What  do  you 

I  New  England, " 


CiLVPTER  11. 


MUS.  m'NAD. 


Mks.  McN.Ui  was  a  native  of  Dumfries,  Scotland,  and 
had  made  her  advent  in  the  jNIiraniichi  country  abijut  five 
ycai'a  previous  to  the  ocruiTcnces  just  mentioned. 

Having  buried  her  liusband,  mother,  and  two  children, — 
hoping  that  change  of  scene  might  lighten  the  weight  upon 
her  spirits,  she  had  concluded  to  emigrate*  with  some  in- 
timate acquaintances  to  the  I'rovince  of  New  Bruns\vick. 

On  first  reaching  tlie  settlement,  she  had  spent  several 
weeks  at  the  Dubois  House,  where  she  set  immediately  at 
work  to  prove  her  accomplishments,  by  assisting  in  mak- 
ing up  dresses  for  Mrs.  Dubois  and  Adele. 

She  entertained  them  wuth  ac(U)unts  of  her  former  life  in 
Scotland, — talking  largely  about  her  acquaintance  with  the 
family  of  Lord  Lindsay,  in  which  she  had  served  iu  the  ca- 
pacity of  mirsc.  She  described  the  castle  in  whicii  they 
resided,  the  furniture,  the  servants,  and  the  grand  company ; 
and,  more  than  all,  she  knew  or  pretended  to  know  the  tra- 
ditions, legends,  and  ghost  stories  connected,  for  many  gen- 
erations past,  with  the  Lindsay  race. 

She  talked  untiringly  of  these  matters  to  the  neighboi's, 
2a 


^1 


18 


MinAMICllI. 


oxcitin.^  their  intcc.t  and  won.ler  l,y  the  now  ,,l.n..es  ofUfc 
presented,  an.l  fnruU\un<^  loo.l  f..r  the  s„,,er.titiouH  tonden- 
ckw  alNvays  rife  in  new  and  ign..rant  settlement..  In  short, 
by  these  n.eans,  she  won  her  way  gi-adnally  in  the  conunu- 
nity,  until  she  came  to  he  the  general  faetotuni. 

It  was  notieed,  indeed,  that  in  the  annnal  r.,und  of  her  vis- 
it.  fron^honseto  house,  Mrs.  McNab  had  a  peculiar  faculty 
of  sccurin'T  to  herself  the  various  material  comforts  availaUe, 
h.xvin.ran''excellent  appetite  and  a  genius  for  appropnatmg 
the  warmest  seat  at  the  fireplace  and  any  other  little  kuxury 
.,.„oin-.     These  things  were,  however,  overlooked,  cspc- 
ci.dly  by  the  women  of  the  region,  on  account  of  her  social 
nualities,  she  being  an  invaluable  companion  during  the 
lone,  dr.ys  and  evenings  when  their  husbands  and  sons  were 
nw^y,  engaged  in  hnnberin;--  .^r  fishing.     When  the  fannly 
with  wluch  she  happened  to  be  sojourning  were  engaged 
in  domestic  occupations,  ^Irs.  MeNab,  established  in  soino 
cosey  corner,  told  her  old  wife  stories  and  wlnled  away  the 
long  and  dismal  wintry  hours. 

Of  all  the  people  among  whom  she  moved,  Adele  Dubois 
least  exercised  the  grace  of  patience  toward  her. 

On  the  return  of  ]Mr.  Dubois  and  his  daughter  to  the 
house,  after  having  seen  the  horses  safely  stowed  away,  he 
refreshed  himself  at  the  tea-table  and  left  the  room  to  at- 
tend to  necessary  business.  Mrs.  Dubois  and  Mrs.  Mc- 
Nab went  to  fit  up  an  apartment  for  the  stranger. 

In  the  mean  time  m.  Norton  and  Adele  were  left  witl 

the  invalid. 

Mr.  Brown's  face  had  lost  its  paUid  hue  and  was  no^v 


c 

a 
c 

0 

8< 

<( 

b: 
ai 

bi 
ki 
w 

sl( 
wl 
ne 
ha 

no 
ca 


he 
to- 

Ai 
SL 


MIKAJIICIII. 


19 


!  new  ])lin..''C9  of  life 
ipcrt'titious  tendcn- 
cmentd.  In  Hhort, 
iilly  In  the  coniuui- 
ctotuni. 

iinl  round  of  her  vis- 
1(1  !i  i»ofuliiir  faculty 
1  comforts  iiviiihiblc, 
U9  for  apin-opriuting 
y  other  little  luxury 
•,  overlooked,  cspc- 
iceount  of  her  social 
npanion  during  the 
bands  and  sons  were 
,     When  the  family 
irning  were  engaged 
,  established  in  sonic 
and  whilcd  away  the 

r.oved,  Adele  Duboia 
I  ward  her. 

his  daughter  to  the 
fcly  stowed  away,  he 
1  left  the  room  to  at- 
3ubois  and  Mrs.  Mc- 
he  stranger. 

Adele  were  left  with 

iiid  hue  and  was  now 


overspread  witli  the  fiery  glow  of  fever.  lie  grew  moro 
and  inorc  restless  in  his  sleep,  until  at  length  he  ojiened  hia 
eyes  wide  and  b.^gan  to  talk  deliriously.  At  tlic  first  sound 
of  his  voice,  Adele  started  froni  her  scut,  expecting  to  hear 
sonic  request  fi-oni  his  lips. 

Gazing  at  her  wildly  for  a  moment,  he  ex(,-laimod, 
"What,  you  here,  Agnes!  you,  travelling  in  this  horrible 
wilderness  I  Where's  your  husband?  Where's  John,  the 
brave  boy?  Don't  bring  them  here  to  taunt  me.  Go 
away  1     Don't  look  at  mo  !  " 

Whh  an  expression  of  terror  on  liis  countenance,  he  sank 
back  upon  the  pillow  and  closed  Ids  eyes.  Mr.  Norton 
knelt  down  by  the  couch  and  made  slow,  soothing  motions 
with  his  hand  upon  the  hot  and  fevered  head,  until  the 
sick  man  sank  again  into  slumber.  Seeing  this,  Adele, 
who  had  been  standing  in  mute  bewildennent,  came  softly 
near  and  wliispored,  ' '  lie  has  been  doing  somethmg  >\Tong, 
has  he  not,  sir  ?  " 

"  I  hope  not,"  said  the  good  man,  "  Ho  is  not  liimsclf 
now,  and  is  not  aware  what  he  is  saying.  His  fever 
causes  liis  mind  to  wander." 

"Yes,  8U-.  But  I  think  he  is  unhappy  beside  being 
sick.     That  sigh  was  so  sorrowful !  " 

"  It  was  sad  enough,"  said  Mr.  Norton.  After  a  pause, 
he  continued,  "  I  will  stay  by  hia  bed  and  take  caxe  of  him 
to-night."  * 

«♦  Ah  !  will  you,  sir  ?  "  said  Adele.  ' '  That  is  kind,  but 
Aunt  Patty,  I  know,  will  insist  on  taking  charge  of  hun. 
She  tliinks  it  her  right  to  take  care  of  all  the  sick  people. 


'3- 


20 


MIUAMIC'III. 


But  I  don't  wish  her  to  ntiiy  with  tills  gnitlt'mnii  to-night. 
If  he  talks  ii-rain  an  he  did  juat  now,  shu  will  tell  it  all  over 
the  ncijflihorhood." 

At  tlmt  moment,  the  door  opened,  and  Mrs.  McNub 
cauic  waddling  in,  followed  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dubois. 

••  Now,  Mr.  Doobycc,"  said  she,  "  if  you  and  this  pus- 
eon  will  just  carry  the  patient  up  stairs,  and  place  him  on 
the  bed,  that's  a'  yo  need  do.     I'll  tak'  care  o'hiuj." 

"  Permit  me  the  privilerro  of  watching  by  the  gentleman's 
bed  to-night,"  said  Mr.  ISorttm,  turning  to  Mr.  Dubois. 

"By  no  means,  sir,"  said  his  host;  "you  have  had  a 
long  ride  through  the  forest  to-day  and  nuist  be  tired. 
Aunt  Patty  hero  prefers  to  take  charge  of  him." 

"  Sir,"  said  ISlr.  Nt^rton,  "  I  obsened  awhile  ago,  that 
his  mind  was  quite  wandering.  lie  is  gi-catly  excited  by 
fever,  luit  I  succeeded  in  quieting  him  once  and  perhaps 
may  be  able  to  do  so  again." 

Here  Mrs.  McNab  interposed  in  tones  somewhat  loud 
and  irate. 

"  That's  the  way  pussons  fra'  your  country  always  talk. 
They  think  they  can  do  everything  hctter'n  anybody  else. 
What  can  a  mon  do  at  nussin',  I  wad  ken?  " 

"Mr.  Norton  will  nurse  him  well,  I  know.  Let  him 
take  care  of  the  gentleman,  father,"  said  Adele.  . 

"  Ilush,  my  dear,"  said  INIr.  Dubois,  decidedly,  "  it  ia 
proper  that  Mrs.  McNab  take  charge  of  ^Ir.  Brown  to- 
night." 

Adele  made  no  reply,  and  only  showed  her  vexation 
by  casting  a  defiant  look  on  the  redoubtable  aunt  Patty, 


whc 

iiavi 

^ 

but 

opp( 

lent 

A 
c^tal 
Mr. 

A 
was 
tlie  < 

A 
rcvc: 
were 
acco 
luka 
undc 
inicli 

to  til 

Dub 

ill  th 
had  : 
comi 
Tl 
wane 
accui 
lienij 
iiiigl; 


iitliinaii  tn-ni^lit. 
vill  toll  it  all  over 

lul  Mrs.   iSIcNiib 
Irs.  Dubois, 
you  niul  this  pus- 
aiul  jilacc  him  on 
re  o'hiiu." 
)y  the  <j('iitloinan's 
to  Mr.  Dulxiis. 
"  you   have  ha<l  a 
(I   nuist  he  tired, 
fhiin." 

I  awhile  a^o,  that 
greatly  excited  hy 
once  and  perha[)3 

38  somewhat  loud 

imtry  always  talk, 
jr'u  anybody  else. 
1?" 

know.  Let  him 
Adelc.  . 

dceidedly,  "it  is 
}f  Mr.  Brown  to- 
wed her  vexation 
•table  aunt  Patty, 


MlH;V.Mi(iii 


21 


wliosc  faro  was  overspread  with  a  grin  of  eatisfUctlon  ut 
liavin},'  earried  her  point. 

Mr.  Xorton,  of  course,  did  not  press  his  proposal  farther, 
but  consoled  h!in«'lf  with  the  thou^dit,  that  s(mie  fiituro 
opportunity  might  oeeur,  enablinjr  him  to  fulfil  his  bcncvo- 
kiit  intentions. 

A  quietinj?  powder  was  administered  and  ]Mrs.  ;MeXab 
established  herself  beside  the  lire  that  had  been  kiniUcd  in 
Mr.  Brown's  apartment. 

After  bavin-,'  indicated  to  Mr.  Xorton  the  bedroom  ho 
was  to  occupy  for  the  ni;;ht,  the  family  retii-ed,  leaving'  him 
the  only  inmate  of  the  room. 

As  he  sat  and  watched  the  dyin<r  embers,  he  fell  into  a 
reverie  concerning  the  events  of  the  evening.  I  lis  nuisino-g 
were  of  a  somewhat  [lerplexed  nature.  lie  was  at  a  loss  to 
.iccount  for  the  appearance  of  a  gentleman,  bearing  unmis- 
tiikable  marks  of  refinement  and  wealth,  as  did  Mr.  Brown, 
under  such  eircunistances,  and  in  such  a  region  as  Mira- 
inichi.  The  words  he  had  uttered  in  his  delirium,  added 
to  the  mystery,  lie  was  also  puzzled  about  the  family  of 
Dubois.  How  came  people  of  such  culture  and  superiority 
in  this  dark  portion  of  the  earth?  IIow  strange,  that  thj 
had  lived  here  so  many  years,  without  assimilating  to 
common  herd  around  them. 

Thus  his  mind,  excited  by  what  had  recently  occun-ed, 
wandered  on,  until  at  length  his  thoughts  fell  into  their 
accustomed  channel,  —  dwelling  on  his  omi  mission  to  this 
lienightcd  land,  and  framing  various  schemes  by  wliich  ho 
might  accomplish  the  object  so  dear  to  liis  heart. 


the^ 
the 


22 


Mi«.\Miritf. 


I 


III  the  iiic'in  time,  lia.iii;,'  tiiniiid  lii.i  I'fcf  imrtiully  iisiilc 
Wnui  tilt'  fiiv,  Ih'  wiiH  wiilt'liin;^  uiicdiif-ciminly  tlii)  iitlnl 
glcaniiiij,'  nf  ii  lii>ht  nint  (in  the  opptwitu  wiiIl  l»y  the  ocni. 
HioMiil  lliiiiiij,'  up  tti"  u  li)ii<,'uc  of  llumc  tVoin  tlio  dyiii;,' 
cinlnTH. 

Siuldi'Mly  ho  honrd  a  (U'('i»,  whirring  •^numl  nx  If  tin' 
spiiiijjs  of  Hoino  odiiiplifatod  iiiiu'l  iuiirj  liiui  jU-.  tiicn  Luiii 
Hot  ill  inntiiiii. 

liOdkiii^  iiroiiiid  to  f'lid  vlcncc  the  u<>m  procot'dcd,  lio 
was  rather  .nfarthd  on  t)l>M'  rviiiL;-  in  tho  wall,  in  one  corner, 
jiiHt  under  the  ccilin;/,  a  tiny  door  {\y  <>»)eii,  mid  oinerj^iii;' 
thenec  a  j;rotoH(|iio,  niiniatiirc  iimn,  holdiiij;,  uplifted  in  hU 
hand,  a  haiiiiner  of  ni/e  propoitlonatc  to  his  own  (ijxniv, 
Mr.  Xorton  nat  motionless,  while  tiiis  Hiiiall  .«iieeiiiien  pro- 
ceeded, with  11  jerky  ;,'fut  and  many  hohhin;^  j^rhnaci', 
ncroMs  a  wire  Htrctehcd  to  the  opi>o.sitc  corner  of  the  room, 
where  ntood  a  tall,  chony  chick.  When  within  a  HJimt 
distance  of  the  cluck  another  tiny  door  in  its  side  Hew 
open  ;  the  little  man  entered  and  struck  delihcratcly  with 
tho  hammer  the  hour  of  midIli;^•ht.  Near  tho  toji  of  the 
dial-plate  was  seen  from  without  tho  rejrular  uplifting  of  the 
litth;  arm,  applying,'  its  utroke  to  the  hell  within.  Having 
performed  his  duty,  this  pcrsona<j;o  jerked  out  of  the  clock, 
the  tiny  door  closin}?  .hcliind  him,  hohhcd  and  jerked  along 
the  wire  as  before,  and  disappeared  at  the  door  in  the  wiill, 
which  also  immediately  closed  after  his  exit. 

llaviii<r  Avitnessod  the  whole  nianiciivre  with  comic  w  - 
der  and  ruriosity,  Mr.  Norton  burst  into  a  loud  and  hcj^'}' 
peal    f  Inii^'i.        luit  was      ;>  resounding  in  the  room  wl.ca 


lie  her 
Tliere 

.-(|ii!iri; 

|||ied    i 
^trenf; 

Her 
nmod  I 
plltlel 

"II 
1  expe 
;iiii  w« 
good  r 

.Mr. 
ill,:,'  til 
pMi'doii 
like  oil 

-II 
a>kcd. 

"O 
lin;-'  I 
riMii'  d( 
went  t( 
ii'iiiidy 
i:ig  th( 
chsorvc 
uiiikinj; 
riiiiin. 

Tiiat 
tiuhed 


Ci'cc  |miliiilly  n.^Mf 
nr«('illll^ly  till!  fitl'iil 
(!  wall  liy  tlio  ot'cu- 
10    from  the    ilyiii;,' 

i(r  Himml   M  if  tlm 
'uui  jii     tiicn  l)ct'n 

liuiHo  proceeded,  Iio 
wall,  ill  one  corntr, 
^peii,  and  emerjiiii;' 
illii^',  u|ilirtt'd  ill  I'i-i 

to  liis  own  fii,niiv. 
Hiuall  .«iioeiinen  pid- 

l)ol)l)in;^  j;riiimc(% 
eorner  of  the  room, 
hen  within  a  Mhnit 
lor  in  its  side  fi(ff 
ck  dcliherately  with 
S'ear  the  top  of  the 
■ulani])liftin<r  of  the 
lM  within.  IL'tviiij; 
ed  out  of  the  clock, 
ed  and  jerked  aloii;,' 
he  door  in  the  Wiill, 
exit. 

/re  with  comic  W'.;)- 
()  a  loud  and  hejui'}' 
ig  in  the  room  w|.ia 


»frfi,^Mio!ii. 


sa 


he  h««cnme  -i  IdeiilyawiH,  f  the  prcM'nre  of  Mr^.  Afc.Vuh. 
There  nhe  ^UhhI  in  the  centre  of  thp  opartment,  lier  firm, 
^f  lire  lio:niv  iippiiirnllv  i-„u(,.,l  to  the  floor,  lirr  lieiul  envoK 
<'|''d  in  iiiiimiicnihjc  t;,|d.s  of  whiter'  cotton,  a  tower  (»f 
^ll■l•nJLrth  and  di'liance. 

Her  unexpected  appearance  chan^'cd  in  a  nioi.ient  the 
iiMMid  of  tlie  fr,„„l  ,„„|,^  ,„„i  In,  i,„|i,ir,.,i  anxiously,  '•Istho 
piitlcman  more  ill?     Can  I  aHHi.-t  you?" 

"Ile'.s  ju.-'t  this  miniiiit  closed  Im'h  eycH  to  .nIcpj),  nnd  naw 
1  expect  hc'M  wide  a\vak(!  a;,niin,  with  tlM  drcadfu'  incket 
:»»  w<Te  ju.st  u  makin'.  O  I  my  I  wailrtu  you  lue  made  a 
^iiod  nuMH?" 

Mr.  Norton  truly  gi-ieved  at  Iuh  inadvertency  in  di,*4urh- 
in-'  the  household  at  this  late  hoiP^of  the  ni-ht,  l)e'rf,rea 
p:inl(.n,  and  told  Mrs.  McNah  he  woidd  not  Ic -uilty'^f  a 
like  ollence. 

"  How  has  the  gentleman  heen  during  the  even  ng?"  ho 
!i-kcd. 

"  O  I  he's  heen  ravin'  crazy  n'nuiist,  andohstacled  every- 
thing I've  done  for  him.  He's  n  very  sick  pusson  n;iw.  I 
<:iiii'  down  to  get  a  liottle  of  nuuhlcs(m,"  and  Mrs.  MeXah 
"(lit  to  a  closet  and  took  iVoni  it  the  identical  horflo  of' 
Huiidy  from  which  iMrs.  Dubois  had  poured  when  jii  ,[)ar- 
m^  the  stimulating  dose  for  the  invalid.  Mv.  N..  ton 
ohscrved  this  performance  with  a  t\^nkle  of  the  eye,  hut 
making  no  conmicnt,  tlio  worthy  woman  retired  from  die 
ruom. 

That  night  Mr.  Norton  slept  indifferently,  being  d  - 
turi)ed  by  exciting  imd  bewildering  dreams.     In  his  slui  — 


24 


BITRAMICni. 


bers  he  saw  an  immense  ciitliedrnl,  liglitoil  only  hy  Avliiit 
eccmecl  some  great  conflagmtion  without,  which,  ghiring  in, 
■with  horrid,  crimson  hue  upon  the  pioturccl  walls,  gave  tlic 
plarc  the  strange,  lurid  aspect  of  Pandemonium.  The 
effect  was  heightened  hy  the  appearance  of  thousands  oi' 
small,  grotesque  beings,  all  bearing  more  or  less  rcseiii- 
blancc  to  the  little  man  of  the  clock,  who  were  flymg  ami 
bobbing,  jerking  and  grinning  througli  the  air,  beneath  tlie 
great  vault,  as  if  madly  revelling  in  the  scene.  Yet  the 
good  man  all  th9  Avhile  had  a  vague  sense  of  some  awful, 
impending  calamity,  which  increased  as  he  wandered 
around  in  gi'cat  perplexity,  exploring  the  countenances  of 
the  various  groups  scty^red  over  the  place. 

Once  ho  stumbled  over  a  dead  body  and  foimd  it  tlic 
coi"pse  of  the  invalid  in  the  room  above.  lie  seemed  to 
himself  to  be  lifting  it  carefully,  when  a  lady,  fair  and 
stately,  in  rich,  sweeping  garments,  took  the  burden  from 
his  arms,  and,  sinking  with  it  on  the  floor,  kissed  it  tenderly 
and  then  bent  over  it  with  a  look  of  intense  soitow. 

Farther  on  he  saw  J\Ii*.  and  I\Irs.  Dubois,  with  Adelc, 
kneeling  imploringly,  with  terror-stricken  faces,  before  a 
representation  of  the  Vu-gin  Mary  and  her  divine  boy- 
Then  the  glare  of  light  in  the  buikling  increased.  Eush- 
ing  to  the  entrance  tc^ook  for  the  cause  of  it,  he  there  met 
Mrs.  McNab  coming  towards  him  with  a  wild,  disordered 
countenance,  —  her  white  cotton  head-gear  floating  out  like 
a  banner  to  the  breeze,  —  shaking  a  brandy  bottle  in  the 
faces  of  all  she  met.  He  gained  the  door  and  found  himself 
enwrapped  in  a  sheet  of  flame. 


S 
ous 

i'OOll 

rose 
A 

his  1 

hud 


ing  1 


itoil  only  hy  ■\vliiit 
which,  ghiring  in, 
cd  walls,  gave  tlic 
lulcinomum.  The 
3  of  thousantld  oi' 
OTC  or  less  rescm- 
10  were  flyuig  aiul 
lie  air,  beneath  the 

0  scene.  Yet  the 
nse  of  some  awful, 

as    he    wandered 
le  couuteuances  of 

ICC. 

y  and  found  it  tlic 
e.     lie  seemed  to 

1  a  lady,  fair  and 
k  the  burden  fi-oin 
r,  kissed  it  tenderly 
;nse  soitow. 
ubois,  with  Adelc, 
i:en  faces,  before  a 
>d  her  divine  boy, 

increased.     Kush- 

of  it,  he  there  mot 

a  wild,  disordered 

yjx  floating  out  like 

•andy  bottle  in  the 

)r  and  found  hinisclt' 


uriRAjiirTTr. 


25 


Suddenly  the  whole  scene  passed.  lie  woke.  A  glori- 
ous September  sun  was  irradiating  the  walls  of  his  bed- 
room, lie  heard  the  movements  of  the  family  below,  and 
rose  hastily. 

A  few  moments  of  thought  and  prayer  sufficed  to  clear 
his  healthy  brain  of  the  fantastic  forms  %\d  scenes  which 
had  invaded  it,  and  he  was  liimself  again,  ready  jmd  pant- 
ing for  service. 


in 
in 
til 


•  CHAPTER  m. 

jm.   NORTON. 

In  order  to  brin-  Mr.  Norton  more  distinctly  before  the 
reader,  it  is  necessary  to  give  a  few  particulars  of  lus  pre- 

vious  life.  , 

lie  was  the  son  of  a  New  England  fanner.     IIis  father 
had  -iven  him  a  good  moral  and  religious  training  and  the 
usuid  common  school  education,  but,  being  poor  and  havmg 
a  large  family  to  provide  for,  he  had  turned  him  adrift  upon 
the  sea  of  life,  to  shape  liis  own  course  and  wm  his  own  tor- 
tunes.   These,  in  some  respects,  he  was  well  calculated  todo. 
lie  possessed  a  frame  hardened  by  labor,  and,  to  a  native 
«lu-ewdness  and  self  reliance,  added  traits  which  tluw  light 
and  warmth  into  his  character.     IHs  sympatliies  were  easily 
roused.by  suffering  and  want.    He  spurned  cveiything  mean 
and  ungenerous,  -was  genial  in  disposition,  indeed  brun- 
niin-  withmirtlifulncss,  and,  in  every  situation,  attracted  to 
himlclf  numerous  friends.     He  was,  moreover,  an  excellent 

blacksmith. 

After  leaving  liis  father's  roof,  for  a  half  score  of  years, 
he  was  led  into  scenes  of  temptation  and  danger.  But,  bav- 
in- passed  through  various  fortunes,  the  whispers  of  the 


in; 
JI( 

(h 
ur 
ac 
th, 

se: 

oc 
ho 

by 

at 
tai 
sti 
int 
Tl; 
till 
mn 

ph 
oit 
llf 
he 


MIRAJIICni. 


27 


tinctly  before  the 
ulars  of  liid  pre- 

mer.  His  father 
I  training  and  the 
r  poor  and  having 
d  him  adrift  upon 

I  wm  hia  own  for- 

II  calculated  todo. 
•,  and,  to  a  native 
which  tlu-ew  light 
latliies  were  easily 
\  cvciything  mean 
ion,  indeed  brini- 
iation,  attracted  to 
iover,  an  excellent 

ilf  score  of  years, 
anger.  But,  hav- 
ic  whispers  of  the 


intcrnnl  monitor,  and  the  voice  of  a  loving  wife,  drew  liiia 
into  Ix.'ttcr  and  snfcr  paths,  lie  betook  hinisoU"  unremit- 
tingly to  the  duties  of  liis  occupation. 

liy  the  influence  of  early  parental  training,  and  the  teach- 
ings of  the  Heavenly  Spirit,  he  was  led  into  a  religious  life. 
1  le  dedicated  himself  unreservedly  to  Christ.  This  intro- 
duced him  into  a  new  spiiere  of  effort,  one,  in  which  liis  nat- 
lU'ally  expansive  nature  found  free  scope.  He  became  an 
active,  devoted,  joyous  follower  of  tlie  Great  Master,  and, 
tlienccforward,  desired  nothing  so  much  as  to  labor  in  hia 
service. 

About  a  year  after  this  important  change,  a  circumstance 
occun-cd  which  altered  the  course  of  his  outward  life. 

It  happened  that  a  stranger  came  to  pass  a  night  at  his 
house.  During  the  conversation  of  a  long  winter  evening, 
his  curiosity  became  greatly  excited,  in  an  account,  given 
by  his  guest,  of  the  Mu'amiclii  region.  He  was  astonished 
at  the  moral  darkness  reigning  there.  The  place  was  dis- 
tant, and,  at  that  time,  almost  inaccessible  to  any,  save  the 
strong  and  hardy.  But  the  light  of  life  ought  to  be  thrown 
into  that  darkness.  Who  should  go  as  a  torch-bearer? 
The  inquiry  had  scarcely  risen  in  his  breast,  l)efore  he 
thought  he  heard  the  worils  spokeii  almost  aucUbly,  Thou 
must  go. 

Here,  a  peculiarity  of  the  good  blacksmith  must  be  ex- 
plained. l\)ssessed  of  great  practical  wisdom  and  saga- 
city, he  was  yet  easily  affected  by  preternatural  Infiuetices. 
Ho  was  subject  to  very  strong  "  impressions  of  mind,"  as 
he  called  them,   by  which  he  was   urged  to  pm'sue  one 


•iil 


t: 


I.:    i 


28 


MiRAArirm. 


course  of  comluct  in^^toad  of  another ;  to  follow  out  one 
plan  of  husinos.s  In  prciciviu-e  to  anotlior,  t-vcn  wlicn  there 
.seeuKHl  to  1)0,  no  apparent  reason,  why  tlio  one  eonrse  was 
better  than  its  alternative.  He  had  sometimes  obeyed  these 
impressions,  sometimes  luul  not.  Bnt  he  thought  he  had 
found,  in  the  end,  that  he  should  have  invariably  foUowod 

them. 

A  particular  instance  confirmed  him  in  this  belief.     One 
day,  being  in  New  York,   he  Avaa    extremely  anxious  to 
comi)lete  his  business  in  (mlcr  to  take  piissagc  home  in  a 
sloop,  announced  to  leave  pcn-t    at  a  certain  hour  in  tliQ 
afternoon,     llesolving  to  be  on  board  the  vessel  at  the  time 
appointed,  he  hurried  from  place  to  place,  from  street  to 
street,  in  the  accomplishment    of  his  plan.     But  he  was 
strangely  hindered  in  liis  arrangements  and  haunted  by  an 
imi)rcssion  of  trouble  connected  with  the  vessel.     Having, 
however,  left  his  wife  ill  at  home,  anil  being  still  determined 
to  go,  he  pressed  on.     It  luippeted  that  he  an'ivcd  at  the 
wharf  just  as  the  sloop  had  got  beyond  the  possibility  of 
reaching  her,  and  he  turned  away  bitterly  disappointed.  The 
iu<^rht  that  followed  was  one  of  darkness  and  horror ;  the 
slo(»p  caught  fire  and  all  on  board  perished. 

He  had  now  received  an  impression  that  it  was  his  duty 
to  go,  as  an  ambassador  of  Clu-ist,  to  IMiramichi. 

Having  for  sometime  previous  "  exercised  his  gift"  whh 
acceptance  at  various  social  religious  meetings,  he  applied 
to  the  authorities  of  his  religious  denomination  for  license 

to  preach. 

After  passing  a  creditable  c'xamination  on  points  deemed 


C: 

d 


t 

e 
I 


n 

t( 
II 

tl 

f. 
h 
k 

v 

A 

r 


Min.uiicm. 


20 


0  follow  out  one 
,  even  wlicu  there 
c  one  eoiirse  was 
hues  obeyed  these 
c  thought  he  h:ul 
ivariiibly  followed 

thii  l)elief.  One 
cmely  anxious  to 
psissage  home  in  a 
rtain  hour  in  tliQ 
!  vessel  at  the  time 
ICC,  from  street  to 
an.  But  he  was 
md  haunted  by  an 
!  vessel.  Iliiving, 
ng  still  dctcrniincd 
,  he  aiTived  at  the 

1  the  possibility  of 
disappointed.  The 
s  and  horror;  the 

3d. 

hat  it  was  his  duty 

iramichi. 

:iscd  his  gift "  with 

cctings,  he  applied 

aination  for  license 

a  on  points  deemed 


essential  in  the  case,  he  obtained  a  commission  and  a  cor- 
dial God  speed  from  his  brethren.  They  augm'(M  well  for 
his  success. 

To  be  sure,  the  deficiencies  of  liis  early  education  some- 
times made  themselves  manifest,  notwithstanding  the  diligent 
clforts  he  had  put  forth,  of  late  years,  to  remedy  the  lack. 
But  on  the  other  hand,  he  had  knowledge  of  human  nature, 
i<agaeity  in  adapting  means  to  ends,  a  wide  tolerance  of 
those  unfortunate  ones,  involved  by»whatever  ways  ia 
guilt,  deep  and  earnest  piety,  and  a  remarkable  natural 
eloquence,  both  winning  and  forcible. 

So  he  had  started  on  liis  long  journey  through  the  wilder- 
ness, and  here,  at  last,  he  is  found,  on  the  banks  of  the 
Miramichi,  checrfid  and  active,  engaged  in  his  great  work. 

The  reader  was  informed,  at  the  close  of  the  last  chap- 
ter, that  after  the  perplexing  visions  of  the  night,  by  the 
use  of  charms  of  which  he  well  knew  the  power,  iVIr. 
Xorton  nad  cleared  his  Ijraiu  of  the  uripleasant  phantoms 
that  had  invaded  It  during  his  slumbers.  Being  quick  and 
forgctlve  in  liis  mental  operations,  even  while  completing 
his  toilet,  he  had  formed  a  plan  for  an  attack  upon  the 
kingdom  of  darkness  lying  around  lilm. 

As  he  entered  the  room,  the  scene  of  Ills  last  night's  ad- 
venture, his  face  beaming  with  chcei-fidness  and  courage, 
Adele,  who  was  just  then  laying  the  table,  thought  his  ap- 
pearance there  like  another  sunrise. 

After  the  morning  salutations  were  over,  he  looked 
around  the  apartment,  observing  It,  in  its  daylight  aspect, 
with  a  somewhat  puzzlSd  air.     In  some  respects,  it  waa 


80 


Min^viwiciii. 


entirely  unlike  what  he  hurl  seen  before.  The  broad  etone 
hearth,  with  its  large  blazing  fire,  the  Duteh  oven,  the 
air  of  neatness  and  thrift,  were  like  those  of  a  New  Eng- 
land kitchen,  but  here  the  resemblance  ceased. 

A  paper-hanging,  whose  originally  rich  hues  had  be- 
come in  a  measure  ihnmicd,  covered  the  Avalla ;    and  cu- 
rious old  pictures    hung    around;    the  chairs  and  tables 
were  of  heavy  dark  woo.l,  elaborately  and  grotesquely  car- 
*    ved,  as  was  also  tke  ebony  clock  in  the  corner,  whose  won- 
derfid  mechanism  had  so  astonished  him  on  the  previous 
evening.     A  low  lounge,  covered  with  a  crimson  material, 
occupied  a  remote  corner  of  the  room,  with  a  Turkish  mat 
spread  on  the  floor  betore  it.     At  tlu3  head  of  the  couch 
was  a  case,  curiously  carved,  filled  with  books,  and  be- 
neath, in  a  little  niche  in 'the  wall,  a  yellow  ivory  crucifix. 
It  did  not  occur  to  the  good  man  to  make  any  compari- 
son between  this  room  with  its  peculiar  adornings,  and  the 
Puritan  kitchen  with  its  stiff,  stark  furniture.     One  of  the 
latter  description  was  found  in  his  own  home,  and  the  place 
where  his  loved ,ones  lived  and  moved,  was  to  him  invested 
wnth  a  beauty  altogether  hidependent  of  outward  form  and 
show.     But,  as  he  looked  around  with  an  air  of  satisfac- 
tion, this  room  evidently  pleased  his  eye,  and  he  paid  an 
involuntary  tribute  to  its  historic  suggestiveucss,  by  falling 
into  a  reverie  concerning  the  life  and  times  of  the  good  Ro- 
man Catholic  Fenelon,  whose  memoir  and  writings  he  had 

read. 

Soon  Adele  called  Mm  to  the  breakfast-table. 

Mrs.  McNab  not  having  made  her  appearance,  he  in- 


:s\ 

he 
til 
di 

cli 
b( 

m 
le 

of 

th 

CO 

ly 

to 
tr 

sc 

^\ 

w 

pi 
^\ 

fa 
b 


The  broad  stone 
!  Dutch  oven,  the 

0  of  11  New  Eng- 
;asc(l. 

ich  hues  had  bc- 

10  walls  ;  and  cu- 
chahv-i  and  tabled 
;1  grotesquely  car- 
)rner,  whose  won- 

11  on  the  previous 
,  crimson  material, 
ath  a  Turkish  mat 
lead  of  the  couch 
:h  books,  and  be- 
llow ivory  crucifix, 
nuke  any  comi)ari- 
adorniiigs,  and  the 
liturc.     One  of  the 
ionic,  and  the  place 
vas  to  him  invested 
'  outward  form  and 

1  an  air  of  satisfac- 
^'0,  and  he  paid  an 
;tivene8s,  by  falling 
les  of  the  good  Ro- 
nd  writings  he  had 

st-table. 
appearance,  he  in- 


MIR/VMICin. 


31 


quired  if  any  tidings  had  been  heard  from  the  sick-room. 
Mrs.  Dubois  replied,  that  she  had  listened  at  the  door  and 
hearing  no  soiuid,  concluded  Mr.  IJrown  was  quiet  under 
the  influence  of  the  sleeping  powder,  and  consequently,  she 
did  not  rim  the  risk  of  disturlnng  hiui  by  going  in. 

"  Should  Aunt  Patty  happen  to  begin  snoring  in  her 
chair,  as  she  often  docs,"  said  Adele,  "  Mr.  Brown  would 
be  obliged  to  Avake  up.  I  di^  any  one  to  sleep  when 
she  gets  into  one  of  those  fits." 

"Adele,"  said  her  father,  while'a  smile  played  round  his 
mouth  and  twinkled  in  his  usually  grave  eyes,  "  can't  you 
let  Mrs.  AlcXab  have  any  peace?" 

"  Is  Mr.  Brown  a  friend  of  yours?"  inquu'cd  JSIi'.  Norton 
of  his  host. 

"I  met  him  for  the  first  time  at  Fredericton.  lie  was  at 
the  hotel  when  I  an-ived  there.  \Ye  accidentally  fell  into 
conversation  one  evening.  He  made,  then  and  subsequent- 
ly, many  inquiries  about  this  region,  and  when  I  was  ready 
to  start  for  home,  said  that,  with  my  permission,  he  would 
travel  with  mc.  I  fancy,"  ^Ir.  Dubois  added,  "  hc  was 
somewhat  ill  when  we  left,  but  ho  did  not  speak  of  it. 
We  had  a  rough  journey  and  I  tliink  the  exposure  to 
which  he  was  subjected  has  increased  his  sickness.  If  he 
proves  to  be  no  better  to-day,  I  shall  send  IMicah  for  Dr. 
Wright,"  said  he,  turning  to  his  wife.  "I  hope  you  will, 
father,"  said  Adele,  speaking  very  decidedly.  "  I  should 
be  sorry  to  have  him  consigned  over  wholly  to  the  tender 
mercies  of  Mrs.  McNab." 

*'Mr.  Dubois,"  said  the  missionary,  laying  down  his 


I' 

pi.: 


82 


Min.vMirm. 


knilb  .-mil  furlv,  PU.lilonly,  "  I  must  confess,  I  am  perfectly 
Bui-iTiscd  t<.  fuul  such  11  family  as  yours  in  this  place.  From 
previous  report,  and  iiulecd  fn.iu  my  own  observation  in 
rcuehing  here,  I  had  received  the  idea,  that  the  inhal.i- 
tants  were  not  only  a  wicked,  but  a  very  rude  ami  un- 
couth set  of  people." 

•'  Whatever  may  b(!  your  opinion  of  ourselves,  aw" 
replied  his  host,  "  you  arc^iot  far  amiss  in  regard  to  the 
character  of  the  people.  They  arc,  in  general,  a  rough  set." 
"Well,  sir,"  said  ^Ir.  Norton,  "  aa  an  honest  man,  I 
must  inform  you,  that  I  came  here  with  a  purpose  in  view. 
I  have  a  message  to  this  people,  —  a  message  of  love  and 
merry  ;  and  I  trust  it  will  n..t  be  displeasing  to  you,  if  I 
promulgate  it  in  this  neighborhood." 

"  I  do  not  understand  your  meaning,"  said  Mr.  Dubois. 

"  I  wish,  sir,  to  teach  these  people,  some  of  the  truths  of 

morality  and  religion  such  as  are  found  in  the  13iblc.     I 

have  ventured  to  guess  that  you  and  your  family  are  of  the 

ll(jman  Catholic  faith." 

' '  AV'e  belong  to  the  conmumion  of  that  church,  su-. 
•'  That  being  the  case,  and  thinking  you  may  have  some 
interest  in  this  matter,  I  wouM  say,  that  I  wish  t(i  make  an 
attempt  to  teach  the  knowledge  of  divine  things  to  thii 
people,  hoping  thereby  to  raise  then  from  thcii"  present 
state  to  sometliing  better  and  holier." 

"A  worthy  object,  sir,  but  altogether  a  hopeless  one. 
You  have  no  idea  of  the  condition  of  the  settlers  here. 
You  cannot  get  a  hearing.  They  scofF  at  such  tilings 
utterly,"  said  Mr.  Dubois. 


or 


th 
in 
ni 


nt 


til 


yt 


a 

dc 

pa 

lai 

•an 

SOI 


MIiaMICIII. 


33 


9,  I  am  perfectly 
tliirt  place.  FrDiii 
ni  o!)8orvatii)n  in 
that  the  iiihahl- 
ny  riido  and  uu- 

f  oursclvcsi,  sir," 
in  regard  to  the 
icral,  a  rough  set." 
an  honest  man,  I 
,  purpoi^e  in  view, 
sssao-c  of  love  and 
jading  to  you,  if  I 


"  said  IMr.  Dubois. 

me  of  the  truths  of 

in  the  Uihle.     I 

r  family  are  of  the 

it  church,  sir." 
ou  may  have  some 
I  wish  to  make  an 
inc  things    to  thii 
from  thcu'  present 

ler  a  hopeless  one. 
■  the  settlers  here. 
)fF  at    such  tilings 


"  Is  there  any  objection  in  your  own  mind  against  an 
endeavor  to   enlist    their    interest?"     asked  ^Mr.   Norton. 

"  Xot  the  least,"  said  .Mr.  Dubois. 

*'  Then  I  will  try  to  collect  the  pcoi)lc  together  and  tell 
thoni  my  views  and  wishes.  Is  there  any  man  here  hav- 
ing influence  with  this  class,  who  would  bo  willing  to  aid 
me  in  this  movement?" 

^Ir.  Dul)ois  meditated. 

•*  I  do  not  know  of  one,  sir,"  ho  said.  "  They  all  drink, 
swear,  gamble,  and  profane  holy  things,  and  seem  to  have 
no  respect  for  either  God  or  man." 

"  It  is  too  true,"  remarked  Mrs.  Dubois. 

"  Xow,  father,"  said  Adele,  assimiing  an  air  of  wisdom, 
that  sat  rather  comically  on  her  youthful  brow,  "J  think 
]\licah  jMummychog  woidd  be  just  the  person  to  help  this 
gentleman." 

"  ]Mieah  Mummychog!"  exclaimed  !Mr.  Norton,  throw- 
ing himself  back  in  his  chair  and  shakin*;  out  of  his  lunjxs 
a  huge,  involuntary  haw,  haw,  "where  docs  the  person 
you  speak  of  hail  from  to  own  such  a  name  as  that,  my 
dear  child?" 

' '  I  rather  think  he  came  from  Yankee  land,  —  from  your 
part  of  the  country,  sir,"  said  Adele,  mischievously. 

"Ah,  well,"  said  INIr.  Norton,  with  another  peal  of 
liiiightcr,  "  we  do  have  some  curious  names  in  our  parts." 

"  ]\Iicah  ]Muramychog  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Dubois,  "  what 
are  you  thiidiing  of,  Adele  ?  Why,  the  fellow  drinks  and 
swears  as  hard  as  the  rest  of  them." 

"  Not  quite,"  persisted  the  child,  "and  besides,  he  haa 
some  g<jod  about  him,  I  know." 


I-'    i 

1.:- 


!■■■:     ■  •! 


84 


muAMicni. 


«» 'NVliat  have  you  socn  good  about  him,  pray?"  siiiil  lur 

father. 

"  Why,  you  rcniomhcr  tliat  when  I  (hscovrred  the  little 
ghl  floating  down  the  river,  Mieali  took  iiit*  boat  and  went 
out  to  Ining  her  ashore.  1I(!  t<tok  tlie  luxly,  dripping,  in 
his  arms,  carried  it  to  hi«  house,  and  hiid  it  down  an  ten- 
derly as  if  it  iiad  been  his  own  sister.  lie  asked  uic  to 
please  go  luid  get  Mrs.  MeXal)  to  come  and  i)repare  it  for 
burial.  The  little  thing,  he  said,  was  entirely  dead  and 
frone.  I  started  to  uo,  as  he  wished,  bnt  happened  to 
think  I  would"  just  step  back  and  look  at  the  aweet  face 
once  more.  Wlicii  I  opened  the  door,  Micah  was  bending 
over  it,  with  his  cjcs  full  of  tears.  When  I  asked,  what 
is  the  matter,  Micah?  he  said  he  was  thinking  of  a  littlo 
sister  of  his  that  was  drowned  just  so  in  the  Kennebec 
River,  many  years  ago." 

"That  showed  some  feeling,  certainly,"  said  iNIrs.  Du- 
bois. 

'  Then,  too,  I  know,"  continued  Adele,  "  that  the  peo- 
ple here  like  him.  If  any  one  can  get  them  together, 
IVlicah  can." 

"Weill"  said  Mr.  Dubois  looking  at  his  child  with  a 
fond  pride,  yet  as  if  doubting  whether  she  were  not  alreatly 
half  spoiled,  "it  seems  you  arc  the  wiseacre  of  the  family.  I 
know  Micah  has  always  been  a  fiivorite  of  yours.  Perhaps 
the  gentleman  will  give  your  views  some  consideration." 

"Father,"  replied  Adele,  "I  have  oidy  said  what  I 
think^about  it." 

"  I'll  try  what  I  can  do  with  ^licali  INiammychog,"  said 
Mr.  Norton  decidedly,  and  the  conversstion  ended. 


the] 
11 

clear 
lious 
a  sh( 
edge 

M 
(liirir 
wild( 
India 
last 
was  I 
in  hii 
••oom 

Til 
coars 
tackli 
iirear 


n,  pray  ?  "  anltl  lu  r 

lispovorctl  llu!  little 

Ills  boat  ami  went 

l)(i(ly,  (Iriiipinfj,  in 

litl  it  down  aH  tcn- 

IIo  nskcd  luc  to 

J  and  i)rcpare  it  for 

entirely  doad  and 

,  I»ut  happened  to 

w  at  the  Hweet  faec 

Micah  wad  bending 

'hen  I  asked,  what 

tliiiikinfif  of  a  littlo 

0  in  the  Kennebec 

ily,"  said  ^Irs.  Du- 

blc,  "  that  the  pco- 
Tct  them  together, 

at  hia  child  with  a 
he  wci'C  not  already 
3rc  of  the  family.  I 
>f  yours.  Perhaps 
e- consideration." 
!  oidy  said  what  I 

Mammychog,"  said 
(tion  ended. 


ciiAi^ER  rv. 

MIC.UI  MUJDIYCIIOa. 

Adout  ten  years  before  the  period  when  this  narrative 
liogins,  Alicah  jMiunmychog  had  come  to  this  country  from 
the  Kennebec  River,  in  the  State  of  Maine. 

He  soon  purcluuscd  a  dozen  acres  of  land,  partially 
floared  them,  and  built  a  large-sized,  comfortable  log 
house.  It  was  situated  not  for  from  the  Dubois  house,  at 
a  Khort  distance  from  the  bank  of  the  river,  and  on  the 
edge  of  a  grove  of  forest  trees*. 

Micah  iidiabited  his  house  usually  only  a  few  montlia 
(luring  the  year,  as  he  was  a  cordial  lover  of  the  unbroken 
wilderness,  and  waa  as  migratory  in  liis  habits  as  the  native 
Indian.  On  the  morning  after  the  events  related  in  the 
last  chapter,  he  happened  to  be  at  home.  While  Adele 
wiis  guiding  the  missionary  to  his  cottage,  he  was  sitting 
in  his  kitchen,  which  also  served  for  a  general  reception 
room,  burnislung  up  an  old  Dutch  fowling-piece. 

The  apartment  was  furnished  vrith  cooking  utensils,  and 
coarse  wooden  furniture ;  the  walls  hung  around  with  fishing 
tackle,  moo-^e-horus,  skins  of  wild  animals  and  a  variety  of 
lircarras. 


m 


f'j 


no 


Miituiicin. 


Mionh  wn«  no  common,  Htiii»iil,  lMmi|.kit»-loi)kin;?  por-ou. 
Bcloii^'in;^  to  till!  jfi'iiii-t  YiiuktM',  In-  liiul  Vft  a  tVw  imciiIi  u' 
tniits  III"  Ills  iiwii.  iff  liail  ii  Hiiialli-'li,  l)iillit-^lia|iiil  li»iici, 
Hi'f,  witli  (li;;Milit.tl  pui'O,  nij  a  pair  of  wido,  llat  .*Ii(>iiliUr.'», 
His  chcHt  was  hroatl  uiul  mwcIHuj,',  liin  limlw  Htraij,'lit,  mii-'- 
culur,  nn»l  istn)iif».  Hi-*  cycH  were  lar^'o,  roinul,  and  bliu-. 
^VIu'l»  Ills  mind  \va«  in  a  wlatc  of  ropcwc  and  his  countiii- 
unco  at  rest,  they  liad  a  HoliMnn,  owl-like  cxiuTssion.  Ikt 
when  in  an  cxclU'd,  oliserviuit  mood,  tlicy  wore  keen  ami 
Moarchini^ ;  and  human  orlw  sniely  never  expressed  more 
rolliekinj,'  fun  than  did  his,  in  his  hours  of  recreation,  lie 
had  a  habit  of  darting'  them  around  a  vide  eirdo  of  ohjects 
Vitliout  turning  his  head  a  hairshri'.'idth.  This,  together 
with  another  peculiarity  of  turning  liLs  head,  occasionally, 
ut  u  sharp  angle,  with  the  quick  (uid  sudden  motion  of  ii 
cut,  probaldy  was  acquired  in  his  hunting  lilb. 

Micidi  hiul  never  taken  to  himself  a  heli)mate,  and  aa  fur 
as  mere  housekeeping  was  concerned,  one  would  judge,  ou 
looking  around  t'-.o  decent,  tidy  apartment  in  which  ho  sat 
and  of  which  he  had  the  sole  care,  that  he  did  not  particularly 
need  one.  lie  washed,  scoured,  baked,  lirewed,  swept  ami 
dusted  as  deftly  as  any  woman,  and  did  it  all  as  a  lAatter  of 
course.  These  were,  however,  only  his  minor  accomplish- 
ments, lie  commanded  the  highest  wages  in  the  lumber 
camp,  was  the  best  fisheraian  to  be  found  in  the  region,  and 
had  the  good  luck  of  always  bringing  down  any  game  ho 
Lad  set  his  heart  upon. 

Micah  had  faults,  but  let  those  pass  for  the  present. 
There  was  one  achievement  of  liis,  worthy  of  all  praise. 


c 

I 
J 

c 

s 

I 

a 

tl 
a 
a 
a 
a 
f( 
b 

0 

b 

01 
AV 

tr 
T 

nr 

o 

ul 

b( 
{[> 
dl 
W 


w 


kiti-liMikin'*  priNcii, 
1  ytt  11  fVw  jH'ciili  ir 
liilllcf-.>'li!l|ii'il  Iu-ik!, 
iili',  lliit  >Iii»iiM(r.'». 
iinl)^  htriiij;hf,  nui"<- 
!,  ruiiiul,  and  liluo. 
ii!  and  liirt  coiiufiii- 
kO  cxpn's.iion.  IJiit 
lioy  wore  keen  uinl 
ver  exprcM.xcd  more 

of  recreation.  He 
idc  cirelo  of  ol)jeotj<, 
th.     This,  togetlior 

head,  occawionaily, 
'iidden  motion  of  ii 
ug  lifo. 

lelpmatc,  and  (is  fur 
mo  would  judge,  oa 
iicnt  in  which  ho  s:it 
e  did  not  particidarly 
,  l)rcwed,  swept  and 

it  all  as  a  lAatter  of 
is  minor  aecomplish- 
^agcs  in  the  hunbcr 
nd  in  the  region,  and 
;  down  any  game  he 

ass  for  the  present, 
rthy  of  all  praise. 


I. 


MinAMicm. 


37 


It  wafl  roniarkod,  that  the  logcjcrj'  wnn  nitiiated  on  tlio 
od^iMif  II  groM'.  This  grovo,  when  Micuh  came,  was  ••!» 
piece  of  wood.-*,"  of  Hie  densest  and  most  tangled  Bort, 
By  his  strong  arm,  it  had  hecn  transformed  into  a  scene  of 
exfeediiig  l)eauly.  He  had  cut  away  tht;  under  gronth  and 
smaller  trees,  leaving  the  taller  sons  of  the  forest  still  rising 
loftily  and  waving  their  liaimers  toward  heaven.  I#lorme(l 
a  magnilicent  natural  tciuple,  and  as  the  etin  fltruek  in 
thnuigh  the  long,  hroiul  aisles,  soft  and  rich  were  the  lights 
and  shadows  that  Hickered  over  the  green  lloor.  The  lofty 
arches,  formcil  Ity  the  meeting  and  interlaced  hranches 
ahove,  were  often  resonant  with  music.  J)uring  the  sprin;^ 
and  siunmer  months,  matin  worship  vva.s  constantly  [»er- 
formiil  l»y  u  midtltudinousi  choir,  and  praisea  were  chanted 
hy  tiny-throated  warhlers,  raising  their  notes  upon  the  deep, 
organ  J)ase,  rolled  into  the  harmony  hy  the  grand  ohl  pineg. 

It  is  true,  that  hardly  a  human  soul  worshipped  here, 
hut  when  the  "Te  Deum"  rose  toward  heaven,  thouHandn 
of  blue,  pink,  and  white  blossoms  turned  their  eyes  upward 
wet  with  dewy  nioisturc,  the  hoary  mosses  waved  their 
tresses,  the  larches  shook  their  tjissels  gayly,  the  birdies 
quivered  and  thrilled  with  j;,/ in  every  leaf,  and  the  rivuleta 
gurgled  forth  u  silvery  sountl  of  gladness.  On  this  partio 
ular  September  morning  IVIicah's  g;rovc  was  radiant  with 
beauty.  The  wild  equinoctial  stonn,  which  had  so  fiercely 
assailed  it  the  day  before,  had  brightened  it  into  fresh  ver, 
dure  and  now  it  glittered  in  the  sunbeams  as  if  bei<_;^'^yQ|]j,j 
with  emerald. 

ISIr.  Norton  and  Adelo  reached  th.o  cottafro  door  on 
wliich  sho  tapped  softly.  4 


88 


MIKAJIICni. 


«'Comc  in,"  Micah  almost  slicnitcd,  without  moving  from 
liid  sent  or  looking  up  from  hid  occupsition. 

The  maiden  opened  the  door,  and  said,  "Good  morning, 

Micah." 

At  the  sound  of  her  voice  he  rose  instantly  and  handing 
a  chair  mto  the  middle  of  the  floor,  said,  "O!  come  in, 
Mis%A.dy ;     I  did  n't  know  cz  it  was  yeou." 

«'  I  cannot  stop  now,  ISIicah,  but  here  is  a  gentleman  who 
has  a  Ihtle  business  with  you.  I  came  to  show  him  the 
way.     This  id  iSIr.  Norton." 

And  away  Adele  sped,  without  farther  ceremony. 
INIicah  looked  after  her  for  a  moment,  with  a  half  smile 
on  his  weather-beaten  face,  then  turned  and  motioning  Mr. 
Norton  to  a  chair,  reseated  himself  on  a  wooden  chest,  with 
his  gim,  upon  which  he  again  commenced  operations,  his 
countenance  setting  into  its  usual  owl-like  solemnity. 

He  was  not  courtly  in  his  reception  of  strangers.  Tlio 
missionary,  however,  had  dealt  with  several  varieties  uf 
the  human  animal  before,  and  was  by  no  means  distm-bcd 
at  this  nonchalance. 

"  I  believe  you  are  from  the  States,  as  well  as  myself, 
Mr.  jSIummychog,"  said  he,  after  a  short  silence. 

<'  I'm  from  the  Kennebec  River,"  said  Micah,  laconically. 
<*  I  am  quite  extensively  acquainted  in  that  region,  hut 
do  not  remember  to  have  heard  your  name  before.     It  'n 
rather  an  uncommon  one." 

'^  "  I  guess  ye  won't  find  many  folks  in  them  parts,  cz  u 
(.•illed  Iti^'immychog,"  said  INIicah,  with  a  twinkle  of  the  eye 
and  eometLiug  Jii^Q  a  gr«i»  o»  l"'^  sombre  visage. 


ton, 

wlic: 

drop 

the] 
(( 

couli 


want 
hunt 
there 


skcei 

fitilui] 

sech, 
(( ' 

<«  ■ 

aU  tl 
(( ^ 

((•' 

since 
from 
eposc 

"] 
vocati 

He 
table, 
eaid, 


thout  moving  from 
,  "Good  morning, 


MlRAMICni. 


89 


tantly  and  handing 

aid,  "O  !  come  in, 

ou." 

is  a  gentleman  wlio 

3  to  show  him  the 

!r  ceremony. 
t,  with  a  half  smilo 
and  motioning  ^Ir. 
wooden  chest,  with 
iccd  operations,  liis 
ke  solemnity, 
of  strangers.  Tlio 
several  varieties  uf 
no  means  distm'bcd 

!,  as  well  as  myself, 
rt  sUencc. 

1  Micah,  laconically. 

in  that  region,  hut 

name  hcfoi'e.     It  'n 

in  them  parts,  ez  is 
a  twinkle  of  the  eye 


)re  visage. 


"  You  Vo  a  smig  place  hero,  Mr.  IMIcah,"  said  ^tr.  Nor- 
ton, who,  having  found  some  difficulty  in  restraining  a  smile, 
when  repeating  ]Mr.  ^Mummyehog's  surname,  concluded  to 
drop  it  altogether, ' '  but  wliat  could  have  induced  you  tolcavo 
the  pleasant  Kennebec  and  come  to  tlus  tUstant  spot  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  cam'  to  git  ^  chance  oad  be  somwhere,  where  I 
could  jest  be  let  ahmc." 

"A  chance  for  what,  Mr.  Micah?" 

"  ^Yhy,  hang  it,  a  chance  to  live  an'  dew  abcout  what  I 
want  tew.  The  moose  an'  wolves  an'  wildcats  hcv  all  ben 
hunted  eout  o'  that  keutrj;.  Thar  wa  'nt  no  kind  ev  a  chance 
there."    So  I  cam'  here. 

"  You  have  a  wife,  I  suppose,  IMr.  IMicah?" 

"  Wife  I  no.  Do  ye  spose  I  want  to  hev  a  woman  kep' 
steered  a  most  to  death  abeout  me,  all  the  time  ?  I'm  a 
Mim'  an'  huntm  good  part  o'  the  year.  Wild  beasts  and 
sech,  is  what  I  like." 

'•  Don't  you  feel  lonely  here,  sometimes,  IVIr  SHcah?" 

"LunsumI  no.  There's  plenty  o' fellers  rcound  here, 
all  the  time.     They  're  a  heowlin'  set  tew,  cz  ever  /  sec." 

♦'  You  have  a  good  gun  there,"  suggested  the  missionary. 

•'  Well,  tolable,"  said  Micah,  looking  up  for  the  first  time 
since  air.  Norton  had  entered  the  house,  and  scanning  him 
from  head  to  foot  with  his  keen,  penetrating  glance.  "I 
fpose  you  amt  much  used  to  firearms  ?  " 

"  I  have  some  acquaintance  with  them ;  but  my  present 
vocation  don't  require  their  use." 

Here  Air.  Mummychog  rose,  and  laying  his  gun  on  the 
tiible,  scratched  his  head,  turned  toward  Mr.  Norton  and 
said,  *«  Hev  yeou  any  pertikilar  bueiness  with  mt)?** 


40 


BHRAancm. 


»  Yea  sir,  I  have.     I  came  to  Miramicbi  to  ax-compH^li 
an  important  object,  and  I  don't  know  of  another  i>er.ou 
who  can  help  me  about  it  so  well  as  you  can.'| 
«« Well,  I  dunno.     "Wliat  upon  arth  is  it  ?  " 
"  To  be  plain  upon  the  point,"  said  the  missionary,  look- 
ing serious  and  earnest,  "  I  have  ^mc  here  to  preach  the: 

cospcl  of  Christ."  . 

.'mewlrcligin.isit?  Icantcllycrightofr,itsnoso 

en  tlicse  ere  parts." 

"Don't  you  thinkaUttlc  religion  is  needed  here,  Mr. 

ISlicah?"  -  ,  1.       u 

»OVell,  I  dunno.     Taint  7mn/e3.     Folks  cz  lives  here, 

can'f  abide  sermans  and  prayers  en  that  doleful  stuff." 

"You  say  you  came  here  for  a  chance,  Mr.  Micah.  1 
suppose  your  friends  came  for  the  same  puiTose.  Now,  I 
have  come  to  show  them,  not  a  cUnce,  but  a  glorious  cer- 
tainty for  happiness  in  this  world  and  in  the  eternity 

beyond." 

"Well,  they  don't  want  tew  know  anjtliing  abeoutit. 

They  just  want  tew  be  let  alone,"  said  :Mlcah. 

"I  suppose  they  do  wish  to  be  let  idone,"  said  Mr. 
Norton.  ' '  But  I  cannot  permit  them  to  go  down  to  wretch- 
edness and  sorrow  unwarned.  You  have  influence  with  your 
friends  here,  Islv.  INIicali.  If  you  will  collect  the  men, 
women,  aad  children  of  tliis  neighborhood  together,  some 
afternoon,  m  your  beautiful  grove,  I  will  promise  to  give 
them  not  a  long  sermon,  but  sometliing  that  will  do  thcni 

good  to  hear." 
"  I  can't  dew  it  no  heow.  There 'b  ben  preachers  along  here 


n 
a 
n 

V 

r 

II 
h 
t( 


SI 

n 
II 

T 

VI 


ai 
ir 


ibi  to  accomplif'li 
of  another  i^rsou 
can." 
it?" 

•  missionary,  look- 
icrc  to  preach  the; 

right  off,  its  no  go 

needed  here,  ISlr. 

'oiks  cz  lives  here, 
doleful  stuff." 
e,  Mr.  Micah.  I 
pui-pose.  Now,  I 
but  a  glorious  acr- 
id in  the  eternity 

anj'tliing  abeoutit. 
Micah. 

it  id  one,"  said  Mr. 
<ro  down  to  wretch- 
:  influence  with  your 
ill  collect  the  men, 
lood  together,  sonic 
rill  promise  to  give 
;  that  will  do  them 

preachers  along  here 


UTCAMICni. 


41 


nforc,  an'  a  few  'ud  go  eout  o'  curiosity,  an'  some  to  make 
a  di.^turbance  an'  scch,  an'  it  never  'meounts  to  anytliiu"-, 
no  lu'ow.  Then  sposin  we  haint  dun  jest  as  we  'd  oughter, 
who  'se  gin  ijcuu  the  right  tew  twit  us  on  it  ?  " 

"I  certiihdy  have  no  riglit,  on  my  own  responsibility,  to 
reproach  you,  or  your  friends  for  sin,  for  I  am  a  smful  man 
myself  and  have  daily  need  of  repentance.  But  I  tnist  I 
have  found  out  a  way  of  redemption  from  guilt,  and  I  wish 
to  conununicatc  it  to  my  fellow-beings  that  they  also  may 
luivo  knowledge  of  it,  and  fly  to  Christ,  thek  only  safety 
and  luqipincss  in  this  world." 

INIicah  luado  no  reply. 

Tiierc  was  a  pause  of  several  minutes,  and  then  the  mis- 
sionary rose  and  said,  "Well,  ^Ir.  Micah,  if  you  can't  help 
me,  you  can't.  The  little  maiden  that  came  with  me,  told 
nie  you  could  render  mc  aid,  if  any  one  could,  and  from 
what  she  said,  I  entertained  a  hope  of  your  assistance. 
The  Lord  will  remove  the  obstacles  to  proclaiming  tliis  sal- 
vatim  in  some  way,  I  know." 

"JMiss  Ady  didn't  say  I  could  help  ye  neow,  did  she?" 
said  Micah,  scratching  his  head. 

"Certainly.     Why  did  she  bring  me  here ?" 

"Well,  cf  that  aint  tarnal  queer,"  said  Micali,  falling 
into  a  deep  reverie. 

In  a  few  moments,  Mr.  Norton  shook  his  new  acquaint- 
ance heartily  by  the  hand  and  bade  liira  good  morning. 
AVas  the  good  man  discouraged   in  his   efforts?  By  no 


means. 


He  had  placed  in  the   mind  of  Micah  Mummychog  a 
4* 


42 


MmAMicm. 


small  fnscc,  so  to  spcalc,  wliicli  ho  foresaw  would  fire  a 
wliolc  train  oCdiscardod  ideas  and  cast-olF  thoughts,  and  he 
expected  to  hear  from  it. 

lie  filled  up  the  day  with  a  round  of  calls  upon  the  va- 
rious families  of  the  ncighl)orhood,  and  came  home  to  his 
lodgings  at  Mr.  Dubois's  with  his  heart  overwhelmed  by 
the  ignorance  and  deliasement  he  had  witnessed. 

Yet  Ills  corn-age  and  hopes  were  strong. 


•osaw  would  fire  n. 
itr  thoughts,  iuiil  he 

■  calls  upon  the  va- 
[  caiiic  home  to  his 
irt  overwhohucd  by 
vitnesscJ. 


CHAPTER  V. 


Bm8.  L-iNSDOWNE. 


P is  a  city  by  the  sea.      Built  upon  an  elevated 

peninsula,  sun-oundod  by  a  country  of  manifold  resources 
of  beauty  and  fertility,  Avith  a  fine,  broad  liarbor,  it  sits 
quccnlike  in  conscious  poAvcr,  facing  with  serene  aspect  the 
ever-restless  Avavcs  that  wa.«h  continually  its  feet.  The 
place  might  be  palled  ancient,  if  that  term  could  properly 
be  applied  to  any  of  the  works  of  man  on  New  Ivug-. 
land  shores.  There  are  parts  of  it,  where  the  arcliitecture 
of  whole  streets  looks  quauit  and  tune-worn ;  here  and 
there  a  few  antique  churches  appear,  but  modern  struc- 
tures predominate,  and  the  place  is  full  of  vigorous  life  and 
industry. 

It  wap  sunset.  The  sky  was  suffused  with  the  richest 
cannine.  The  waters  lay  quivering  beneath  the  palpitat- 
ing, rosy  light.  The  "spires  and  dome^  of  the  town 
eauirht  the  ethereal  hues  and  the  emerald  hills  were  bathed 
in  the  glowing  atmosj)herc. 

In  a  large  apartment,  in  the  second  story  of  a  tall,  brick 
mansion  on street,  sat  Mrs.  Lansdowne.  Suscepti- 
ble though  she  was  to  the  attractions  of  wk  scene  before 


44 


MiRAJncin. 


her,  tbcy  did  not  now  occupy  licr  attention.  Ilcr  brow 
Wiis  contracted  with  painful  tliouglit,  her  lip  quivered  with 
deep  emotion.  The  greatest  sorrow  she  had  known  Imd 
fallen  u[)on  her  tlu-ough  the  eiTor  of  one  whom  she  fondly 
loved. 

Though  enwrapped  in  a  cloud  of  grief,  one  could  sec 
that  she  possessed  beauty  of  a  ricli  and  rare  type.  She 
bad  the  delicate,  aquiline  nose,  the  dark,  lustrous  eyes  and 
Jiair,  the  finely  arched  eyebrows  of  the  Hebrew  woman. 
But  she  was  no  Jewess. 

ISlrs.  Lansdownc  could  number  in  her  ancestry  luou 
who  had  l)cen  notal)le  leaders  in  the  lievohitionary  v.ar 
with  England,  and,  later  in  our  history,  others,  who  were 
remarkable  for  patriotism,  nobility  of  character,  intellectual 
ability,  and  high  moral  and  religious  cidtiu'C. 

Early  in  life,  she  had  been  united  to  ^^v.  Lansdownc,  a 
gentleman  moving  in  the  same  rank  of  society  with  her- 
self, llis  health  obliged  him  to  give  up  the  professional  Hfo 
he  anticipated,  and  lie  had  become  a  prosperous  and  enter- 
prising merchant  iu  Ida  native  city.  They  had  an  only 
child,  a  son  eighteen  years  old,  who  in  the  progress  of  his 
collegiate  course  had  just  entered  the  senior  ycart 

Edward  Somcrs  was  jMrs.  Lansdowne's  only  brother,  her 
mother  haviifg  died  a  week  after  liis  Ijirth.  She  was  eleven 
years  of  age  at  the  time,  and  from  that  early  period  had 
watched  over  and  kved  liim  tenderly.  lie  had  grown  up 
handsome  and  accomplished,  fascinating  in  manners  and 
most  afFectionatc  toward  herself.  She  had  learned  that  ho 
bad  been  engaged  m  what  appeared,  upon  the  face  of  it,  a 


MrRAMicnt. 


45 


ntioii.  ITor  brow 
r  lip  quivered  with 
ic  luul  known  Imd 
!  whom  she  fondly 

I'ief,  ono  could  8ce 
1  rare  type.  She 
,  lustrou8  cyc8  and 
!  Hebrew  woman. 

her  ancestry  mou 
Revolutionary  war 
,  others,  who  were 
araeter,  intellectual 
tiu-c. 

Mr.  Lansdo\\Tic,  a 
'  society  with  her- 
tlie  i)rofestfional  life 
)8perou3  and  enter- 
Thcy  had  an  only 
the  progress  of  liis 
lior  yeart 

's  only  brother,  her 
1.  She  was  eleven 
it  early  period  had 
He  had  groAvu  up 
112  in  manners  and 
had  learned  that  ho 
ion  the  face  of  it,  a 


dishonorable  affair,  audhcr  sensitive  nature  had  been  greatly 
shocked. 

Two  years  before,  IMr.  Lansdowno  had  taken  hiifl  as  a 
junior  partner  in  his  business.  lie  had  since  been  a  mem- 
ber of  hid  sister's  family. 

A  young  foreigner  had  come  to  reside  in  the  city,  profess- 
ing himself  a  member  of  a  noble  Italian  family.  Giuseppe 
liossiui  was  poet,  orator,  and  musician.  As  poet  and  orator 
he  was  pleasing  and  graceful ;  as  a  musician  he  excelled, 
lie  was  a  brilliant  and  not  obtrusive  conversationalist.  Ilis 
enthusiastic  expressions  of  admiration  for  oiu-  free  institu- 
tions won  him  favor  with  all  classes.  In  the  fashionable 
circle  he  soon  became  a  pet. 

jVIrs.  Lansdowno  had  from  the  first  distrusted  him. 
There  was  no  tangible  foundation  for  her  suspicions,  but 
she  had  not  been  able  to  overcome  a  certain  instmct  that 
warned  her  from  liis  presence.  She  watched,  with  mis- 
givings of  heart,  her  brother's  growing  familiarity  with  tho 
Italian.  *  A  facility  of  temper,  his  characteristic  from  boy- 
hood, made  her  fear  that  he  might  not  be  able  to  withstand 
the  soft,  insinuating  voice  that  veils  guilty  designs  by 
winning  sophistries  and  appeals  to  sympathy  and  friendship. 
And  so  it  proved. 

One  day,  in  extreme  agitation,  Rossini  came  to  INIr. 
Somers,  requesting  the  loan  of  a  considerable  smn  of 
money,  to  meet  demands  made  upon  liim.  Remittances 
daily  expected  from  Europe  had  failed  to  reach  him.  Mr. 
Somers  was  unable  to  command  so  large  a  sum  as  he 
required.     His  senior  partner  was  absent  from  home.     But 


46 


MIRAMICni. 


the  wily  Rossini  ho  won  upon  1.1s  sympatlu^s,  that  ho  went 
to  the  private  safe  of  hU  brothci-in-law,  and  took  from 
thence  the  money  necessary  to  free  his  fricml  from  embar- 
rassment. He  never  saw  the  Italian  iiD;ain. 

When  the  treachery  of  which  he  hail  been  the  victim 
burst  npon  him,  together  with  his  own  wcakiiO-s  and  suilt, 
he  was  filled  with  shame  and  remorse.  Mr.  La.isdowno 
was  a  man  of  stern  integrity  and  uncompromising  jn-sticc. 
He  dared  not  meet  his  eye  on  his  return,  and  he  dreaded 
to  comnmuicatc  the  unworthy  transaction  to  liis  sister,  who 
had  so  gently  yet  so  faithfully  warned  him. 

lie  made  desperate  efforts  to  get  traces  of  the  villain 
who  had  deceived  him.  Unsuccessfid  —  maddened  whh 
sorrow  and  shame,  he  wrote  a  brief  note  of  farewell  to  Mrs. 
Lansdowne,  in  which  he  confessed  the  wrong  he  had  com- 
■  mitted  against  her  husband,  which  Mr.  Lansdowne  would 
reveal  to\er.  He  begged  her  to  tliink  as  kindly  of  lum 
as  possible,  averring  that  an  hour  before  the  deed  was 
done,  he  could  not  have  bcUevcd  lumsclf  capable  of  it. 
Tlicn  he  forsook  the  city. 

When  these  occurrences  were  communicated  to  Mr. 
LansdoAvnc,  he  was  filled  with  suiTrisc  and  indignation,— 
not  at  the  pecuniary  loss,  which,  with  liis  ample  wealth, 
was  of  little  piomcnt  to  him,  but  on  account  of  such  impru- 
dence and  folly,  where  he  least  expected  it. 

A  few  hours,  however,  greatly  modified  his  view  of  the 
case.  He  had  foimd,  in  the  safe,  a  note  from  IMr.  Somcrs, 
stating  the  cii'cumstances  under  which  he  had  taken  tho 
money  and  also  the  disappearance  of  Rossini.    This,  to- 


Mnusnciii. 


47 


lies,  that  lio  went 
,  and  tvjok  from 
icucl  from  cjnbur- 

» 

bcon  tbo  victim 
iakuo-8  and  Ruilt, 

Mr.  Laiisdowno 
promising  justice. 
,  and  he  dreaded 
to  his  sister,  who 
11. 

cca  of  the  villaiu 
—  maddened  with 
f  farewell  to  Mrs. 
rong  he  had  com- 
Lansdowne  would 

as  kindly  of  liim 
arc  the  deed  was 
elf  capable  of  it. 

lunlcatcd  to  Mr. 
nd  indignation, — 
liis  ample  wealth, 
unt  of  such  inipru- 
it. 

led  his  view  of  tho 
from  ^Ir.  Somcrs, 
he  had  taken  tho 
Jossiui.     This,  to- 


gotlicr  with  his  wife's  distress,  softened  his  feelings  to  such 
a  degree  that  he  consented  to  recall  his  brother  and  rein- 
state liiui  in  Ills  former  place  in  business. 

But  whither  had  the  fugitive  gone?  iMrs  Lansdowno 
found  no  clue  to  his  intended  destination. 

During  the  morning  of  the  day  on  which  she  is  first  in- 
troduced to  the  attention  of  tho  reader,  she  had  visited  liis 
apartment  to  make  a  more  thorough  exploration.  Look- 
ing around  the  room,  she  saw  lying  in  tlie  fireplace  a  b!t 
of  paper,  half  buried  in  the  ashes.  She  drew  it  out,  and 
after  examining  carefully  found  wTitten  upon  it  a  few 
words  tliat  kindled  a  new  liopo  in  her  heart.  Taking  it  to 
her  husband,  a  consultation  was  held  upon  its  contents  and 
an  expedition  planned,  of  which  an  account  will  be  given 
in  the  next  chapter. 

She  was  now  the  prey  of  conflicting  emotions.  The  ex- 
pedition, which  had  that  day  been  arranged,  involved  a 
sacrifice  of  feeling  on  her  part,  greater  she  feared  than  tsho 
would  be  able  to  make. 

l>ut  in  order  to  recover  her  brctlicr  to  homo,  honor,  and 
happiness,  it  seemed  necessary  to  bo  made.  Voices  from 
the  dead  were  pleading  at  her  heart  incessantly,  urging 
her,  at  whatever  cost,  to  seek  and  save  him,  who,  with 
herself,  constituted  the  only  remnant  of  their  family  left  on 
earth.  Her  own  aiFection  f()r  hun  also  pressed  its  elo- 
quent suit,  and  at  last  the  decision  was  confii'med.  She 
resolved  to  venture  her  son  in  the  quest. 

In  the  mean  time,  tho  sunset  hues  had  faded  from  the  sky 
and  evening  had  approached.     The  golden  full  moon  had 


48 


MIKAJIirilt. 


risen  nnd  was  n<.w  Ml.lninf,'  in  at  tlio  !)r(in.l  window,  hrin^r. 
in-  into  l.cautif.il  ivlicf  tiu^  .l<-li."itc  tra.-cry  on  the  lii-li 
ooniircs  liie  ri.l.  carvin--*  .»f  tl.r  n.alM.-rany  furnitnro,  an.l 
htrikinj,'  ont  u  Hoft  nlurn  JVom  Mr-.  LansdowncV  l.la.k 
witin  dres.H,  aa  hIio  inovcil  alowly  to  and  fro,  tiu-()iij,'li  ti.c 

Sho  seated  herself  onrc  more  at  tho  window  and  pazid 
upon  the  h.velv  oH.  ..f  ni-ht.  A  i.orti..n  of  its  serenity  en- 
tend  and  tran.,..ilii/.ed  her  nonl.  The  eh.nd  of  earc  and 
anxiety  passcl  IV.mu  her  brow,  kuviug  it  smooth  and  pure 
ud  that  of  au  unyel. 


IK 

hi 

n( 


"1 


(II 


ci 
E 


ad  window,  hrlnpj- 
atTry  on  the  lii,i;ii 
rany  t'uniituro,  and 
lian."<downt''rt  black 

I  fro,  through  tlio 

wnidow  nnd  pazid 

II  (if  it!*  Horonity  cii- 
(doiul  of  care  and 

it  biuooth  und  imro 


ClIAlTi:U  VI. 


•'JOILV,    DEAU. 


()\  tho  t'Vfiiiiij;  tliat  ^hn.  Lansddwnc  was  thus  nrniplcd, 
Jolm,  hir  son,  wiio  had  Iktu  out  on  the  Itay  all  the  al'tir- 
n(»on,  rushed  past  the  dniwing-rooiu  door,  hounded  up  (ho 
lung  Htaireasc,  entered  hid  room,  situated  on  the  satne  Hoor, 
not  I'ar  from  hismotlier'n,  and  rang  the  hell  violently. 

In  a  fesv  mimites,  Aunt  Esther,  an  ancient  hlack  woman, 
who  had  long  heen  in  the  service  of  the  family,  made  her 
appearance  at  the  door,  and  intpiired  what  "Massa  John" 
wanted. 

"  1  want  Bornc  fire  here.  Aunt  Esther.  I've  been  out  on 
the  hay,  fishing.  Our  smack  got  run  down,  and  I've  had  ii 
ducking  ;  I  feel  decidedly  chilly." 

"Law  sakcs  I"  said  she,  in  great  trepidation,  "yer  ortcr 
get  warm  right  away,"  and  hastened  down  stairs. 

A  stout,  hale  man,  socm  entered  the  room,  with  a  haskct 
of  wood  and  a  pan  of  coals,  followed  inunediately  by  Aunt 
Esther,  who  began  to  arrange  them  on  the  hearth. 
,  Aunt  Esther's  complexion  was  of  a  pure  shining  Ijfcick, 
her  features  of  the  size  und  cut  usually  accom[)anyiug  that 
hue,  und  lighted  up  by  a  contented,  sunshiny  expression, 


so 


MIIIAMICIM. 


wlil.h  truly  iiitlifiiti-d  thv  ixn-mal  Htiito  of  her  luiml.  .V 
hiilliiiut,  yi'lliiw  Uirhan  *at  well  up')!!  Iut  wcKtlly  lofks  iiinl 
II  liliH' -1111(1  rt'tl  <liiiil/  (Irc.-s  Htripcd  iui|i«ii(li.iilarly,  soiiic- 
what  cliiiijiaU'd  tlit;  fll'o't  »i'  Iut  .-tmit  tliiiupy  lij^urf.  Slic 
had  taki'ii  care  tif  .lolmdiirin;,'  UU  hahyliodd  and  oarly  hoy- 
houd,  imd  hi!  iv muincd  to  this  day  her  et^iteeial  [>vt  and  i»ride. 

•«  Aunt  Ksther,"  Buid  tliiit  y<»nnj,'  nuin,  throwuif,'  himself 
into  an  nisy-chair,  nnd  UHsuminjf  as  larkadnisical  an  ex- 
pression as  his  IVaidv  laid  ruguldi  I'aee  w.aild  allow,  "1 
have  jnst  lost  a  Iriend." 

"  Ver  have?"  said  his  old  nurse,  looking  round  con»i)!W- 
sionatcly. 

•'When  did  ycr  lose  him?" 

»' Ahout  an  hour  ago." 

"What  tlid  he  die  of,   Ma.-ta  John?" 

*'()f  a  i»ainfnl  nervous  di.sease,"  said  ho. 

"How  old  wan  he?" 

*' A  few  years  younger  than  I  am." 

"Did  he  die  hard?" 

"Very  hard,  Aunt  Esther,"  said  John,  looking  solemn. 

"Had  yer  known  him  long?" 

"Yes,  a  long  time." 

Aunt  Esther  gave  si  deep  sigh.  "Docs  yer  know  wcder 
lie  was  pious?" 

"  Well,  here  he  is.  Perhaps  you  can  tell  by  looking  ai 
'.lim,"  said  he,  handing  her  a  tooth,  he  had  just  had  ex- 
traet^d,  and  bursting  into  a  boyish  laugh. 

"01  yer  go  along,  Massa  John.  I  might  hev  knowed 
it  waa  one  of  yer  deceitful  tricks,"  said  Aunt  Esther,  trying 


of  lici'  iii'mil.  A 
•  WDidly  lucks  aiul 
['luliciiliirly,  Hoiiic- 
inpy  li^iire.  Slic 
ikmI  imd  I'lirly  Itoy- 
ic-ial  pi't  ami  i»ruli'. 
,  tlii'owiiij^  liiuirtiU 
•kadai.xical  an  fx- 
wniiM  allow,  "  I 

ing  ruuud  compus- 


lio. 


n,  looking  solemn. 


)0s  ycr  know  wcdcr 

1  tell  by  looking  ut 

I  had  just  had  ex- 

li. 

niij;ht  hcv  kiiuwed 

Luut  Esther,  trying 


MIUAMKill. 


51 


fo  (V)nocftl  her  nmnsptnont,  l)y  putting  on  nn  injnnHl  h)ok. 
"'I'lurc,  till!  (Iro  bnrnH  now.  YiT  jcnt  put  on  tlu-ni  dry 
rluthis  an  (piiik  um  over  ycr  can,  or  niohhy  yi>  '11  Iomc  another 
(Viend  hef'ore  long." 

•*  It  Hhall  l)<!  <lonc  as  you  Hfiy,  beloved  Annt  Ksther," 
t<aid  he,  rising  and  bowing  profoundly,  a.■^^he  left  the  room. 

!  Living  obeyed  the  worthy  woman's  injunction,  ho  drew 
t\w  ea.xy-ehair  to  the  fire,  leaned  hi^  head  baek  and  spent 
the  next  half  hour  hovering  between  conseiousness  and 
dreamland. 

From  thin  state,  ho  was  roused  by  a  geiule  t.ip  on  his 
door,  fidlowed  by  his  mother's  voiee,  saying,  ".folm,  dear?'' 

dolin  ro.-e  in>'.iiuly,  threw  the  door  wide  open  and 
ushered  in  the  ladv,  saying,  '«  Come  in,  little  (piccn  mother, 
come  in,"  and  bowing  over  her  hand  with  u  pomimus,  yet 
eom'tly  gi'aec. 

!Mrs.  Lansdowne,  wlien  seen  a  short  time  slnoo.  v.-.ilkinf 
in  her  solitude,  seemed  cpiite  lofty  in  stature,  but  now, 
standing  for  a  moment  beside  the  regal  height  of  her  son, 
one  e(mld  fnlly  justify  him  in  bestowing  nnun  her  the  title 
V  ith  V.  bich  ho  had  greeted  her. 

Jolui  Lansd()\viie  was  fast  developing,  physically  as  well 
as  mi'ntaily  into  a  noble  manhood,  and  it  was  no  wonder 
that  his  mother's  heart  swelled  wilb  prido  and  joy  wlien  -ho 
looked  upon  him.  Straight,  muscular,  and  vigorous  in 
form,  his  features  and  cxi)ression  were  precisely  her  own, 
enlarged  and  intensified.  Open  and  generous  in  disposition, 
his  character  had  a  certain  quality  of  firmness,  quite  in 
contrast  with  that  of  his  wv  '     Edward,  and  this  she  had 


52 


MIUA^IICIII. 


carefully   sought   to   strengthen.     In    the   pursuit  of  his 
Btudies,  he  had  thus  far  been  earnest  and  successful. 

During  the  last  half  year,  however,  he  had  chafed  under 
the  confinements  of  student  life,  and  having  now  become 
quite  restive  in  the  harness,  he  had  asked  liis  father  for  a 
few  montlis  of  freedom  from  books.  He  wished  to  explore 
a  wilderness,  to  go  on  a  foreign  A-oyage,  to  Avander  away, 
away,  anywherfe  })cyond  the  sight  of  college  walls. 

"John,"  said  Mrs.  Lansdowne,  "I  have  been  con- 
versing with  your  father  on  the  subject,  and  he  has  con- 
sented to  an  expedition  for  you." 

"  O  !  gloriotis  !  mother  where  am  I  to  go?  to  the  Bar- 
can  desert,  or  to  the  Arctic  Ocean  ?  " 

"  You  arc  to  make  a  journey  to  the  IMiramichi  Elver?" 
"  ]\Iiramichi ! "    said   John,    after    a   brief   pause,    "I 
thought  I  had  a  slight  acquaintance  Avith  geography,  but 
where  In  the  wide  world  is  JNIiramichi  ?  " 

'<It  is  in  the  province  of  New  Brunswick.  You  will 
have  seventy-five  miles  of  almost  unl>roken  wilderness 
to  pass  through." 

"Seventy-five  miles  of  wilderness  !  magnificent !  where  s 
my  rifle,  mother?  I  haven't  seen  it  for. an  age." 

"  Don't  be  so  nnpetuous,  John.  T'ds  journey  through 
the  wilderness  will  be  anything  but  magnificent.  You  will 
meet  many  dangers  by  the  way  and  w  ill  encounter  many 
hardships." 

"  But,  mother,  what  care  I  for  the  perils  of  the  way. 
Look  at  that  powerful  member,"  stretching  out  bis  large, 
muscular  ami. 


MlKAMICiri. 


3  pursuit  of  his 
successful. 
Iiad  chafed  under 
linuj  now  become 
d  liis  father  for  ;i 
wished  to  explore 
to  wander  away, 


ge  Avails. 


have   been   con- 
and  he  lias  con- 


5X0?  to  the  Bar- 


[iramichi  Elver  ?  " 
brief  pause,  "I 
h  geography,  but 

swick.  You  will 
n'okcn   wilderness 


ffnificent !  where  s 
n  age." 

LS  journey  through 
lificent.  You  will 
11  encounter  many 

perils  of  the  way. 
dugout  his  large, 


"Don't  trust  too  much  in  that,  Jolm.  Your  strong 
arm  is  a  good  weapon,  but  you  may  meet  sometliing  yet 
that  is  more  tlian  a  matdi  for  it." 

"■Possibly,"  said  John,  with  a  sceptical  au-,  "but  when 
am  I  to  start,  mother?" 
.  "To-morrow." 

' '  To-morrow  !  tliat  is  fine.  AYell !  I  must  bestir  myself," 
said  lie,  rising. 

' '  Xot  to-night,  my  dear.  Yi  ai  've  notliing  to  do  at  pres- 
ent. Arrangements  are  made.  Be  quiet,  Jolm.  Wo 
may  not  sit  thus  together  again  for  a  long  while." 

"True,  mother," said  lie,  reseating  himself.  "But  how 
<lid  you  happen  to  think  of  Miramichi?"  he  asked,  after 
a  pause. 

"Tliat  is  what  I  must  explain  to  you.  Yom-  uncle  Ed- 
ward has  committed  an  act  of  imprudence  which  he  fancies 
your  father  will  not  forgive  him.  He  has  left  us  without 
giving  any  information  of  his  destination.  We  hope  you 
Mill  find  him  in  New  Brunswick,  and  this  is  your  errand. 
You  must  seek  him  and  brinif  him  back  to  us." 

John  had  been  absent  at  tlie  time  of  ]Mr.  S<jmcrs's  depar- 
ture, and,  A\ithout  making  definite  inquiries,  supposed  him 
to  be  away  on  ordinary  business. 

After  his  first  surprise  at  his  mother's  announcement,  he 
was  quite  silent  for  a  few  moments. 

Then  he  s;.''d,  firmly,  "  If  he  is  there,  I  Avill  find  him." 

INIrs.  Lansdowne  did  not  explain  to  lum  the  nature  of  her 
brother's  offence,  but  simply  communicated  her  earnest  de- 
sire for  his  retm-n.     Then  going  together  to  the  library  they 


54 


MlIlAMICin. 


consulted  the  mnp  of  Miiino  and  New  Bninswi'-k.  ^Ir. 
Liuisdowne  joined  thoni,  —  the  nmte  was  fully  discussed, 
and  John  retired  to  dream  of  the  delights  of  a  life  untram- 
melled by  college,  or  city  walls. 


P)nins5\vi('k.  INIr. 
IS  fully  di!<cus.sed, 
5  of  a  life  imtrain- 


CIIAPTEPv  VII. 


A   JOUliXFA'   TIIIJOUOII   TIIK   AVILOEUNESS. 


Two  (lays  after  the  arrival  of  Mr.  Norton  at  the  Dul)i>is 
ILiiiso,  on  the  banks  of  the  ^.liraniichi,  Jolin  Lansilowne, 
(111  a  l)rilliant  Septeniljcr  morning,  started  on  his  meiuor- 
al)le  jonrncy  to  that  region. 

He  was  np  betimes,  and  made  his  appearance  at  the 
stables  just  as  James,  the  stout  little  eoaelnnan,  was  com- 
pleting Cicsar's  elaborate  toilet. 

Caesar  was  a  noble-looking,  black  animal,  whose  strength 
and  capacity  for  endurance  had  been  avcU  tested.  This 
morning  he  was  in  high  spirits  and  looked  good  for  months 
of  rough-and-tumble  sei'vice. 

"  Here's  yer  riile,  ^Mister  John.  I  put  it  in  trim  for  yo 
yesterday.  I  s'posc  ye  '11  be  a  s(iuintin'  reound  sharj)  lor 
bears  and  wolves  and  other  livin'  wild  beasts  when  ye  git 
inter  the  wooc^i." 

'     "Certainly,  James.     I  expect  to  set  the  savage  old  mon- 
sters scattering  in  every  direction." 

"  "Well,  but  lookeout,  ^Mister  John  and  keep  number  one 
cout  o'  lire  and  water  and  sech." 

"Trust  nic  for  doing  that,  James." 


56 


MIU.VHIICIII. 


After  many  aiToctiontitc  counPcls  and  adieus  from  his  par- 
ents,  John,  mounted  en  the  {ralh.nt  CWr,  >vith  his  ,il!e 
and  portmanteau,  posted  on  at  a  rapid  rate,  soon  leavmy 

the  eity  fiir  l)ehind. 

The  position  of  one  who  sits  eonfidcntly  upon  the  back 
of  a  brave  and  spirited  horse,  is  surely  enviaWe.     The  mas- 
tery of  a  creature  of  such  strcngtli  and  capacity— wlios) 
neck  is  ch)tlied  with  thunder  — the  gh.ry  of  whose  nostrils 
is  terril)h>,  gives  to  the  rider  a  sense  of  freedom  and  power 
not  often  feh-  amidst  the  eommou  conditions  of  life.     No 
wonder  that  the  Be.louin  of  the  desert   cral'ty,  cringing, 
abject  in  cities,  when  he  mounts  his  Arab  steed  and  is  olf 
to  the   burning   sands,   becomes  dignified  and  courteous. 
Liberty  and  power  arc  his.     They  elevate  him  for  the  tunc 
in  the  scale  of  existence. 

John  was  a  superb  rider.     From  his  fi.  ^  ^-td,  he  had  sat 
on  horseback,  firm  and  kingly. 

He  and  Ciesar  apparently  indulged  in  common  emotions 
on  Uxis  morning  of  their  departure  fn.m  home.  They  did 
not  it  is  true  "smell  die  battle  afar  otV,  the  thunder  of  the 
captains  and  the  shouting,"  but  they  smelt  the  wilderness,  the 
wild,  the  fresh,  the  free,  and  they  said  ha !  ha !  And  so 
they  sped  on  their  long  journey. 

The  young  man  made  a  partial  acquaintance  with  lum- 
bering operations  at  Bangor;  had  his  sublimQ  ideas  of  the 
nobility  of  the  aborigines  of  the  country  somewhat  discom- 
posed by  the  experience  of  a  day  spent  in  the  Indian  settle- 
ment atOldtown  ;  found  a  decent  shelter  at  Mattawamkeag 
Point,  and,  at  last,  with  an  exidtant  bound  of  heart,  struck 
into  the  forest. 


' 


c 
e 
t 

(1 
II 
ll 
c 

V 

e 
a 


tl 

CI 

ni 

w 
Ic 
tv 

:ii 


li 
w 


MIIJAMirill. 


57 


icus  from  his  par- 
sir,  V  ith  Ills  riile 
rate,  aoon  leaving 

tly  upon  the  hack 
viable.  Tho  mas- 
l  capacity — whuso 
T  of  whose  nostrils 
Tocdom  ami  power 
tions  of  life.  No 
,  crafty,  cringing, 
•ab  .stcetl  and  is  olf 
led  and  courteout*. 
tc  liim  for  the  time 

fii  <^<^-'al,hchad.sit 

.  common  emotions 
u  home.  They  did 
,  the  thunder  of  the 
It  the  wilderness,  the 
\  ha  !  ha  !     And  so 

Liaintancc  with  luni- 
sublimQ  ideas  of  the 
Y  somewhat  disconi- 
m  the  Indian  settlc- 
er  at  Mattawamkeag 
lund  of  heart,  struck 


' 


The  only  road  through  this  solitary  domain  was  the  rou^h 
path  made  by  luLJiennen,  in  hauling  supplies  to  the  various 
canipsi,  scattered  at  intervals  tin-ough  the  dense  wilderness, 
extending  seventy-five  miles,  from  .Mattawamkeag  Point  to 
(lie  r>'.ilish  boinxlary. 

Here  Xatm-e  was  found  in  magnificent  wildncss  and 
(lis;in-ay,  her  hair  quite  unkempt.  Great  pines,  shooting 
np  innncnse  distances  in  the  sky  skirted  the  path  and  fhui"- 
their  green-gray,  trailing  mosses  abroad  on  the  breeze; 
crowds  of  fir,  spruce,  hendgek,  and  cedar  trees  stood 
waving  aloft  their  rich,  dark  banners;  clusters  of  tall, 
white  birches,  scattered  here  and  tliere,  relieved  and  bright- 
ened the  sombre  evergreen  depths,  and  the  maple  with  its 
atlluent  foliage  crowned  each  swell  of  the  densely  covered 
land.  Here  and  there,  a  scarlet  tree  or  bush  shot  out  its 
sanguine  hue,  betokening  the  maturity  of  the  season  and 
the  near  approach  of  autunm's  latest  splendor.  Big  bould- 
ers of  granite,  overlaid  with  lichens,  were  profusely  oiiia- 
nionted  with  crimson  creepers.  Everything  ai)pcared  in 
s|ilendid  antl  wasteful  confusion.  There  were  hu<'-e  trees 
with  branches  partially  torn  away;  others,  with  split  trunks 
leaning  in  slow  death  against  their  fellows ;  others,  pros- 
trate on  the  ground  ;  and  around  and  among  all,  grew  brakes 
and  ferns  and  parasitic  vines  ;  and  nodded  purple,  red,  and 
gold'.'ti  berries. 

The  brown  squirrels  ran  up  and  down  the  trees  and 
over  the  tangled  rubbish,  chirping  merrily;  a  few  late 
lingering  birds  sang  little  jerky  notes  of  nuisic,  and  the 
woodpecker  made  loud  tapping  sounds  which  echoed  like 


58 


MiRAMicnr. 


the  strokes  of  the  woodman's  axo.  The  air  was  rich  an.l 
bivlmy,  —  ppiccd  with  cedar,  pmc,  and  hcuiluck,  and  a  thou- 
sand uukno^vn  odors. 

The  path  through  this  wihl  of  forest  was  rude  and  difVi- 
cuh,  but  the  travellers  held  on  tli.  '  ■  way  nnflinchin-ily,— 
the  horse  with  unfalteruig  courage  and  patience,  and  his 
rider  with  unocashig  wonder  and  delight. 

At  noon  they  came  to  a  halt,  just  where  the  sun  looked 
down  golden  and  cheery  on  a  little  dancing  rivulet  that 
babbled  by  the  wayside.  .Here  G-sar  received  liia  oats, 
for  which  his  master  had  made  room  in  his  portmanteau, 
at  the  expense,  somewhat,  of  his  own  convenience.  The 
young  man  pai-t(H)k  of  a  hearty  lunch  and  resigned  liimself 
to  dreams  of  lif'J  under  the  greenwood  tree. 

After  an  hour's  rest,  again  in  the  saddle  and  on  — on, 
through  recurring  scenes  of  wildness,  waste,  and  beauty. 
Just  Ts  the  stai's  began  to  glint  forth  and  the  traveller  and 
horse  felt  willing  perhaps  to  confess  to  a  little  weariness, 
they  saw  the  light  of  the  expected  cabin  fire  in  the  distance. 
Caesar  gave  a  low  whinny  of  approval  and  Imsteaaed  on. 
Two  m-  three  red-shirted,  long-bearded  men  gave  them 
a  rude  welcome.  They  blanketed  and  fed  Cicsar,  and  pick- 
eted him  under  a  low  shed  built  of  logs. 

John,  as  hungry  as  a  famished  bear,  ikank  a  deep  draught 
of  a  black  concoction  called  tea,  which  his  friends  heic 
presented  to  him,  ate  a  powerful  piece  of  dark  bread,  inter- 
larded with  fried  pork,  drew  up  with  the  others  around  the 
fire,  and,  in  reply  to  their  curious  qixestionings,  gave  thcui 
the  latest  news  from  the  outside  world. 


au' 
iui 

eai 

of 

itiu 

fiil 

get 

>pt 

bee 

ma 
liin 
wai 

r 
J 

thn 
call 
cicv 

lilln 
fl'Ol 

oft 

I 

son: 
cull 
I0..J. 
a  ci 
hint 


MJIUMICIII. 


59 


ic  air  was  rich  and 
unlock,  and  atliou- 

ivas  rude  and  difli- 
ay  iinflincliinji'ly, — 

I  pationoc,  and  hi-* 

L  • 

icrc  the  snn  looked 

ancing  rivulet  that 

received  hia  oats, 

II  \m  portmanteau, 
convenience.     The 
nd  resigned  liiuiself 
tree. 

addle  and  on  —  on, 
waste,  and  beauty 
nd  the  traveller  and 
to  a  little  Avearinc'^s, 
1  fire  in  the  dif^tance. 
id  and  hasteaed  on. 
•ded  men  gave  them 
fed  Cicsar,  and  pick- 
is. 

tlrank  a  deep  drauglit 
licli  his  friends  hero 
of  dark  bread,  inter- 
:he  others  around  the 
!titioninga,  gave  them 


W 


For  this  information  ho  was  rewarded  by  the  strange 
and  stirrijig  adventures  of  wilderne=is  life  they  related  dur- 
iiii,'  tlie  quickly  Hitting  evening  hours. 

They  told  of  the  scores  \vho  went  into  the  forest  in  tho 
ciuly  part  of  whiter,  not  to  return  until  late  in  the  snrin"- : 
of  snow-storms  and  [lacks  of  wolves;  of  herds  of  deer  and 
moose;  they  related  thrilUng  stories  of  men  crushed  by 
Hilling  trees,  or  jammed  between  logs  in  the  streams,  to- 
gether with  incidents  of  the  long  winter  evenings,  usually 
.•<pent  by  them  in  >tory  telhng  and  card  playing.  Thus  ho 
became  acquaimed  with  the  routhie  of  camp  life. 

AVearied  at  last  with  the  unaccustomed  fatigues  of  the 
day,  he  wrapped  himself  in  his  cloak,  placed  his  port- 
manteau under  his  head  for  a  pillow  and  floated  off  to  dream- 
land, under  the  impression  that  this  gypsying  sort  of  life, 
was  just  the  one  of  all  others  he  should  most  like  to  live. 

The  folloving  morning,  the  path  of  our  traveller  struck 
tlirough  a  broad  reach  of  the  melancholy,  weird  desolation, 
called  a  burnt  district.  He  rode  out,  suddenly,  from  the 
dewy  greenness  and  balm-breathing  atmosi)here  of  the  un- 
lillghted  forest,  into  sunshine  that  poured  down  in  torrents 
from  the  sky,  falling  on  charred,  shining  shafts  and  stumps 
of  trees,  and  a  brilliant  carpet  of  fircweed. 

Tt  is  nearly  impossible  to  give  one  who  has  not  seen 
something  of  the  kind,  an  adequate  impression  of  the  pe- 
culiar appearance  of  such  a  region.  The  strange,  grotesque- 
looking  stems,  of  every  imaginable  shape,  left  standing  like 
a  company  of  black  dwarfs  and  giants  scattered  over  the 
liind,  some  of  them  surmounted  with  ebony  crowns  ;  some, 


no 


MIUAMICIII. 


vith  lioiul.-*  covcml  liki-  dldiu  warriors  witli  jetty  licliiu'ts ; 
Puim-  Nvith  brawny,  lon.i;'  avm.^  strctclu'd  over  ihv.  pathway 
a.-^  if  to  seize  the  pa.ssi-r  hy,    and    all   with   iWl  phuitnl, 
bi'fiuiiudy  in  deep  and  ilaniiuLi;  luv.     How  (itiiekly  natm-o. 
goes  al'.iit  repairing  her  des.dations  !      So   ^jreat  in  this 
case  is  her  liaste  to  euver  up  the  hlaek,  unseemly  surface  of 
the  earth,  that,  from  the  strange  reseniWanee  of  the  wivd 
with  whieli  she  clothes  it  t.)  the  fiery  elements,  it  would      I 
seem  as  if  she  had  not  yet  been   al>le  to  thrust  the  racing 
•duw  out  ol'  her  fancy,  and  so  its  tyi.e  had  crept  again  over 

the  l)Iighted  spot. 

John  rode  on  over  the  glowing  ground,  the  l)laek  mon- 
sters grimacing  and  scsowling  at  him  as  he  passed.  A\  hat 
a  nice  eeiie  place  this  would  he  thought  he  for  witches, 
wizards,  and  all  Satan's  gentry,  of  every  shape  and  hue,  to 
liold  their  high  revels  in.  And  he  actually  began  to  shout 
the  witches  song — 

"  Black  spirits  .mil  wliitc, 
Kud  si)irlts  and  t?''^)'-" 

At  which  adjuration,  Ca-sar,  doubtless  knowing  who 
were  called  upon,  pricked  up  his  ears  and  started  on  a  full 
run,  probably  not  wishing  to  find  himself  in  sucli  company 
just  at  that  time. 

An  establishment  similar  to  the  one  that  had  sheltered 
him  the  night  previous,  proil'ered  its  entertainment  at  the 
close  of  our  adveuLarei's  second  day.  The  third  day  in 
the  wilderness  was  signalized  by  an  incident,  which  excited 
such  triumphant  emotions  as  to  cause  it  to  be  long  rcinem- 


be 
ail 
he 
pa 
ac 
d( 
<K 
(h 

I' 

c! 

lu 

ai 

a 

til 

hi 

al 

til 

li 

bl 

^1 
tl 


g 


y 
d 
tl 
I 
tl 


W 


MIUAMICHI. 


61 


V  it  1 1  jetty  heliiuts  ; 

over  the  piitliwiiy 
with  iW't  plautnl, 
()\v  ([iiiokly  iiutiiri! 

Si)  ;j;r(Mt  in  this 
nsecmly  surlUci'  o\ 
hhinec  i)t'  tlie  weed 
[)lonu'nt.-<,  it  wniilil     <  i 

thrust  the  Viigiii,:^' 
iid  crc'i)t  again  ov  ci' 

1(1,  the  hhu'k  mnii- 
hc  [)as?ic(l.  "What 
N-ht  he  i'oi-  witches, 
y  .shape  and  hue,  to 
lally  Ijegan  to  .shout 


tlesrt  knowing  who 
iiul  .started  on  a  full 
jU"  iu  .sueli  company 

!  that  had  .sheltered 
;ntertainnient  at  the 
The  third  day  in 
•ident,  which  excited 
t  to  be  long  rciuem- 


li(  red.  Ahiiut  an  Iioui"  suh  enuent  to  his  noon  halt,  a.s  lie 
ami  Cx'.sar  >vere  procei'ding  along  at  a  moderate  [taee,  lie 
heard  a  ni.stling,  eniekling  noise  on  the  right  si<le  uf  the 
path  and  .suddenly  a  deer,  Irightened  and  jianting,  (lew 
aero.s.s  the  road,  turned  for  a  moment  an  almost  human, 
despairing  look  toward  him,  plunged  into  the  tangled  un- 
dcr-growtli  on  tiie  left  and  wast  gone  from  .sight.  John 
drew  his  reins  iii.>tantly,  hringing  hi.s  lior.se  to  a  dead  stand, 
IjMisened  his  rille  from  his  .shoulder  and  after  examining  it 
clo.-^ely,  remained  (piiet.  Ili.s  patience  was  not  taxed  hy 
long  waiting.  'Within  the  space  of  two  minutes,  there  waa 
another  .sharp  crunching  and  eracklingof  dry  boughs,  when 
a  wolf,  large,  gray,  and  fierce,  .spnmg  into  the  path  from 
the  .same  opening,  following  on  the  trail  of  the  deer.  lie 
had  nearly  ert).sscd  the  narrow  road  in  hot  pur.suit  and  wan 
nliont  springing  into  the  thicket  beyond,  when  an  aeciden- 
till  turn  of  liid  head  brought  our  hero  suddenly  to  his  attcn  ■ 
tiun.     He  stopped,  as  if  struck  by  a  spell  of  enchantment. 

"Whiz  !  the  ball  flew.  The  very  instant  it  struck,  the 
bloodthirsty  monster  fell  dead.  When  John  reached  the 
spot,  there  was  scarcely  the  (jnivcr  of  a  limb,  so  well  had 
the  work  of  death  been  accomplished.  Yet  the  wolfish  face 
grinned  still  a  savage,  horrible  defiance. 

"  Here,  Ctcsar,"  he  exclaimed,  in  a  boastful  tone,  "do 
you  know  that  this  old  fellow  lying  here,  won't  get  the 
drink  out  of  the  veins  of  that  dainty  creature  he  Avas  so 
thirsty  for?  No!  nor  ever  cheat  any  sweet  little  lied 
Ividiiig  Hood  into  thinking  hini  her  grandmother?  This  is 
the  last  of  him.     Did  u't  I  do  the  neat  tiling,  Caesar? " 


C2 


MIUAMinil. 


Cif«nr  tlirow  liln  licml  on  "lu-  side,  with  im  iiir  oi'  iidiiii- 
ratitin  and  },'!ive  a  low  wliiiiny,  tliat  lictokoiuMl  a  ^tatc  <it' 
iiitfiisc  .satisliu'llon  ;it  the  w'lole  transaction. 

It  may  apixMi"  frivolous  to  thoM:  who  liavo  road  with 
iinwavorin^f  crcihility  th(!  ohh'ti  taU-(  of  tiic  prowi-.-M  jiud 
achiijvcinpnts  ol"  kni;;htrt  errant  in  the  days  ol"  ehivah'y, 
tliat  on(  shouhl  stop  to  relate  Kiieh  a  eoniiuonphiee  in<i- 
dent  ns  the  shootin;;'  of  a  wolf,  and  aliovo  all,  that  thi' 
hero  of  tiiis  narrative,  should  hetray,  even  to  his  hor.-ki, 
snch  a  decideil  emotion  of  self  admiration  for  having'  iier- 
formed  the  feat.  Sueli  a  trille  would  not  indeed  he  worth 
nionti(minj;  in  company  with  the  marvellous  deeds  and 
rnysterioua  soreericH  of  the  old  roniaunt,  but  this  beinj,'  a 
true  story,  the  hero  young,  and  this  the  lirst  frame  of  the 
kinil  ho  lias  yet  hroii^ht  down,  it  must  he  excused. 

After  a  critical  examination  of  his  victim,  (Uir  traveller 
mounted  his  horse  and  proceeded  on  his  journey,  much 
gratified  at  his  afternoon's  work,  and  inwardly  resolving  how 
he  would  make  the  eyes  of  James  and  Aunt  Esther  stand 
out,  while  listening  to  the  account  of  it  he  should  give  thcni, 
on  his  return  home. 

In  about  seventeen  days  after  hia  departure  from  P., 
John  safely  accomplished  his  journey.  Amidst  the  subso- 
(pient  hardshi[)S,  rough  fare  and  toils  of  that  journey, 
which,  in  truth,  thirty-five  years  ago,  wee  things  not  to  he 
laughed  at,  he  had  a  constant  satisfaction  in  the  recollection 
of  having,  with  one  keen  shot,  killed  a  large,  fierce,  gray 
wolf. 


I 


>i.i 

A( 

to 


lie 

liu^ 
I 

the 
woi 
licr 

lien 

Pat 
"cn 


,itli  nn  uir  i>f  lulini- 
(■ti)kciu<l  a  Htiito  (if 

tioll. 

Ill)  have  road  willi 
if  tiic  pri)\vi',>«M  ami 
J   (lays   of  cliivnlry, 

coniinonphK.'L'  iixi- 
aljovc  all,  that  tlic  j 
even  to  his  hor.-ki, 
ion  for  having  licr- 
lot  indeed  he  worth 
n'vellous  deeds  and 
nt,  but  this  bein^  a 
he  first  j^'anie  of  the 
be  excused, 
lictini,  (air  traveller 

his  journey,  nuuh 
•ardly  resolving  how 

Aunt  Esther  stand    I 
lie  shoiUd  give  thciii, 


/ 


depai'ture  from  P., 
Amidst  the  subso- 
s  of  that  journey, 
re.e  things  not  to  be 
m  in  the  recollection 
a  large,  fierce,  gray 


CILVITIOIt  VIII. 


A    FUNEU/VL. 


Trii;  day  following  the  .'nl!  mtuh;  by  :\rr.  Norton  on 
Mil-ill  Miininiyehog,  fho  last-named  peivonagi!  eainc  to 
Air.  Dubois's  h(mse  and  Adele  happening  to  open  the  out- 
^i.I<!  door,  just  as  he  hove  in  >iglit,  ho  called  out,  "  ^fisa 
Ady,  do  yu  know  where  that  individooal  that  yc  brought 
til  my  hcouse  yi>terday,  is?  " 

"  I'ou  mean  the  missi(miry?"said  Adele. 

"  Well,  yis,  1  spose  so;  where  is  he?" 

"lie  is  engaged  with  a  sick  gentleman  wc  have  here, 
lie  has  taken  the  [ilace  of  Aunt  Patty,  who  is  tired  out  and 
liiis  gone  to  rest." 

"  Well,  that  piece  of  flesh,  what's  called  IMcXab,  has 
the  greatest  fakkilty  of  -ittin'  tired  cout  when  there  's  any 
work  reound,  that  ever  I  see.     Any  lieow,  she 's  got  to  stir 
licrsidf  this    tune.     But    I   want    to   see   the    minister, 
noow." 

"  Yes,  I  will  ppeak  to  him.  But  I  shall  not  call  Aunt 
Pnlty.  She  is  tired  mw.  I  can  take  care  of  the  sick 
•gentleman.     But  what  has  happened,  MIcah?" 

"  Well,  there's  goin'  to  be  a  funeral.     I  can't  jestly  tell 


Ci 


MinAMtnii. 


yc  .ihonut  it  noow.  Yo  ran  ax  ycr  ^ir,  when  ho  ronics  i..." 
miia  Mi'-uh,  ri'liirtant  to  i,'o  into  imrticulurs  which  ho  knew 
would  nhofk  Atli-lc. 

-Will,  ("i.i.tin,"  ^al.I  Mi<'ah,  wlu-u  Mv.  Norton  iu^mIo 
hi..  ai.iR'Ui.in.-o  at  the  door,  honV  a  ir-"lar  wiiid-lhll  for  y.-. 
Hero's  an  Irishman  over  horo,  an  is  <K'a<l  as  a  door  nail. 
Hc'.s  fioin"  to  ho  huriod  to-ni-ht,  'hoout  ^nnsot,  an.l  I  dun 
no  hut"  what  1  can  git  a  chanoo  lor  yo  to  liold  fbrtii  a  spoil 
iu  tlu>  ^n-ovo,  jest  atoro  tjwy  put  him  anchor  {^roound." 

••Dciidl  the  poor  man  dead  1  indood  !  "   oxoUiiiucd  Mr. 

Norton. 

"  Yis.  IIo  was  phot  ri-,dit  throu,'j;h  his  hoart,  and  I 
liopo  I  Hwinj,'in '  cmi  'Ul  coino  on  him  that  put  the  ball 
thrcouph,  tow." 

"Why,  how  was  it,  :Mr.   Mlcah?"  Kild   Mr.  Norton 

earnostlv. 

•'  Woll,  ycou  jest  toll  ir.c  fust  wothor  yoou'll  say  prayor.s 
or  sonicthin'  or  'nothor  ovor  tho  poor  ohap's  rooUks." 

♦'Cortainly,  1  will,  Mr.  Mi<'ah." 

"Woll,  yc  HOC,  rapMoCiiath  lived  hack  here,  half  a 
mile  or  80,  an'  lie's  <^nt  lots  o'  cousins  an'  friends  'at  live 
nil  along  on  this  'ore  river,  more  or  loss,  till  yc  git  to 
Chavtham,  tli(it\i  nitooatod  to  the  mouth.  Well,  these  fil- 
lers haa  hoon  in  thehahit  o'gittin' to-other  and  n;oin'deown 
river  and  hirin'  once  in  a  spell,  some  sprt  of  old,  cranky 
craft  and  goin'  skylarkinir  roound  to  Eastport  and  Pcjrtland.^ 
Artcr  a  while  they  'd  cum  back  and  snuiggle  in  a  cargo  o 
soinethin'  or  'nothcr  from  the  States,  and  sheirk  the  dootics. 
Well,  'bcout  a  week  ago,  there  was  a  cimfoundcd  old  crit- 


tu 

oil 
fol 
an 
Imi 

hi 


c 

(I 

CO 

an 
In 
an 
al 

UI1 
li.v 

ai 
>•£ 

T 
re 
I 


i^' 


I 


Min.vMinn. 


05 


ivlicn  ho  roiiicH  in," 
law  which  hi;  knew 

Mr.  Xi)rtnn  lui'.ili! 
iiir  wliid-liill  tor  yi-. 
,';\(1  11!^  ii  <h>(>r  Hiiil. 

siiiisrt,  iinti   I  <luii 
II  hi  lid  I'ortii  a  xpill    i 
iiliu"  j^rpouiul." 
1 1 "    exchiimcd  ^Ir. 

I   his   heart,   and   I 
a  that  put  the  ball 

"  i^aid   ^Ir.  Norton 

'  ypou'll  saypraycrrf, 
hnp'.i  rcclik;*." 

d  back  here,  half  a 
s  an'  Irionda  'lit  live 
r  less,  till  yc  git  to 
I,.  Well,  these  fil- 
■thor  and  poin'  deown 
!  sprt  of  old,  cranky 
istport  and  Portland, 
nnuggle  in  a  cargo  o 
nd  wheirk  the  dootics. 
I  confounded  old  cril- 


tur  'ut  live-"  half  way  fnmi  here  to  Chnrtham,  that  informed 
on'  em.  So  tlu-y  jes'  eolltrtfd  togetlier  —  'heout  twenty 
fellers — and  mohhed  him.  And  the  old  eu."<."<  lired  into 'em 
and  killed  this 'ere  man.  So  neow  they've  hronght  hid 
hnily  hum,  and  his  wife'-s  a  poor  shiftless  thing,  and  she'a 
lieen  a  hoUerin'  and  screeehin'  ever  seuco  whe  heerd  of  it." 

"  Poor  woman  !  "  said  Mr.  Norton,  greatly  shocked. 

"Well,  I  nii-lit  as  well  tell  yer  the  whole  on 't,"  said 
Micah,  scratching  his  head.  "  Ver  see,  he  was  oi  e  o'  these 
Catholics,  this  Pat  was,  and  tl  •  fellers  went  to  the  priest 
(he  lives  deown  river,  little  heiier'n  ten  mile  from  here)  in 
course  to  git  him  to  dew  what's  to  be  done  to  the  funeral, 
and  the  tarnal  old  heatlu-n  woiih^  n't  dew  it.  Ho  sed  Pat 
had  gone  agin  the  law  o'  the  kentry,  and  lie  would  / 1  hev 
anything  to  do  *  beout  it.  So  the  fellers  brough'^t;  r  body 
along,  and  I  swear,  Pat  Mc(j rath  shall  hev  a  decent  funeral, 
any  way." 

"  Where  is  the  fimcral  to  be?"  asked  Mr.  Norton,  after 
listening  attentively  to  the  accimnt  iNIicah  had  given  him. 

"  ()  1  deown  here  'n  the  grove.  The  body  's  to  my  heousc, 
and  Maggie  his  wife's  there  a  ecreechin'.  Tlie  grave- 
yard's close  here,  and  so  they  did  n't  carry  him  hum." 

I'll,  go  down  and  sec  this  poor  Maggie,"  said  Mr.  Norton. 

• '  Don't,  for  the  Lord's  sake.  I'm  ecnermost  crazy  neow. 
The  heouse  is  jammed  full  o'  folks,  and  there  ain't  nothin, 
ready.  You  jes'  wait  here,  till  I  git  things  in  shape  and 
I  '11  cum  artcr  yc."         , 

Micah  then  departed  f".  ca  ,iplete  his  arrangements,  and 
Mr.  Norton  returned  to  his  post,  in  the  sick-room. 
6* 


1^^ 


G6 


MIUAMICin. 


It  was  noavly   five    o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  before    a 
me.^.^cnger  came  to  inform  him  that  the  hour  of  burial  had 

arrived. 

A  p^-nnge  scene  presented  it.-elf  to  his  view,  as  ho  ap- 
proached the  grove.  A  motley  company,  composed  of  the 
settlers  of  every  grade  and  condition  for  miles  uround,  hr.d 
collected  there.  i\Ien,  women,  and  children  in  various 
costume— the  scarlet  and  crimson  shirt,  or  tunic,  carryin;,^  it 
high,  above  all  other  fashions  —  were  standing,  or  walking 
among  the  trees,  conversing  upon  the  event  that  had 
brought  them  together. 

As  the  missionary  approached,  the  loud  indignant  voices 
subsided  hito  a  low  murmur,  and  the  peoi)le  made  way  for 
him  to  reach  the  centre  of  the  grou[». 

Here  he  found  the  coffin,  placed  upon  a  pile  of  boards, 
entirely  uncovered  to  the  light  of  day  and  to  the  inspection 
of  the  people,  who  had,  each  in  turn,  gazed  with  curious 
eyes  npon  the  lifeless  clay  it  enclosed. 

In  the  absence  of  :Mrs.  :McXab,  who  was  still  sleeping 
away  the  cfFects  of  her  late  fatigues  at  the  house  of  ^Ir.  Du- 
bois, the  women  of  the  neighlxn-liood  had  arrayed  Patrick 
McGrath,  very  properly,  in  a  clean  shirt  of  his  accustomed 
Avearing  apparel,  so  arranging  it  that  the  folda  of  the  red 
tunic  could  be  lifted  in  order  to  expose  to  those  who  came 
to  look  upon  him  the  wound  he  had  j.:eceivcd.  There  he 
lay,  the  iiide  smuggler,  turned  gently  upon  his  side,  one 
cheek  pressing  the  pillow.  Death  had  effaced  from  his 
countenance  every  trace  of  the  stormy  passions  which 
raffed  in  his  breast  when  the  fatal  bullet  struck  hun,  and 
had  scaled  it  with  even  a  pleasant  serenity. 


MIUAMICIII. 


07 


'tornoon,  befdvc    a 
liuLii"  of  buriiil  had 

!  view,  as  he  ap- 
,-,  composed  of  the 
miles  around,  had 
hll(h'ea  in  various 
or  tunic,carrvin!,'it 
ui(hng,  or  walking 
lie    event  that  hail 

id  indignant  voices 
I'ojjle  made  Avay  for 

)n  a  pile  of  boards, 
nd  to  the  inspection 
ffazcd  M'ith  curious 

o  was  still  sleeping 
le  house  of  ^Ir.  I)u- 
liad  arrayed  Patrick 
rt  of  his  accustomed 
:he  folda  of  the  red 

to  those  who  came 
received.     There  ho 

upon  his  side,  one 
vd  cftaccd  from  his 
ny  passions  which 
Uct  struck  him,  and 
lity. 


Not  so  with  ihc  compeers  of  his  race,  who  encircled  the 
cofHn.  Tlinj  scowled  a  fierce  fury  from  beneath  tlunr 
])ii>hy  brows  and  nnittered  vows  of  ven<;cancc.  The  rays 
of  the  sun,  now  ra^jidly  declining,  shot  into  their  angry 
liices,  the  evening  breeze  shook  out  their  matted  locks  of 
liiiir.  A  peculiar  glow  was  cast  over  their  wild,  Erin 
features,  now  gleaming  with  unholy  passion. 

]Mr.  Norton  bent  for  a  fe'\'  minutes  over  the  coffin,  while 
an  expression  of  son-ow  and  deep  commiseration  overspread 
liis  countenance.  Then  he  stepped  upon  a  slight  knoll  of 
.rriiuiid  near  bv,  raised  lumself  to  his  full  height  and 
began  to  speak  in  a  voice  that  rose  above  the  crowd,  clear, 
iaeh)di(ms,  fidl  and  penetrating  as  the  notes  of  a  bugle. 
Jt  tiu-ilh;d  on  every  ear  and  di-ew  instant  attention. 

"Friends,  brethren,  fcUow-sinners,  one  of  our  number 
has  been  suddenly  struck  down  by  the  relentless  hand  of 
death,  and  wo  are  here  to  pay  the  hist  honors  to  his  mortal 
remains, — each  and  all  to  learn  a  solemn  lesson  while 
standing  at  the  mouth  of  the  grave.  Ih-ethrcn,  we  are  to 
learn  anew  from  this  occasion  that  death  often  comes  to  man 
with  the  suddenness  of  the  lightning  flash.  One  moment 
before  your  comrade  was  struck  by  the  fatal  bullet,  his  eye 
"•lowed  as  keenly  and  his  right  arm  was  as  powerful  as 
yours.  Tlie  next  moment  he  was  prostrate  on  the  ground, 
with  no  power  to  move  a  single  limb  of  his  body,  or  utter 
a  single  sigh,  or  breathe  a  single  prayer.     He  was  dead. 

"  I  am  ignorant  whether  he  was  prepared  to  make  such  a 
sudden  transit  from  this  world  to  that  scene  of  judgment  to 
wliich  he  has  been  summoned.     You  know,  who  were  hia 


68 


MIKAMlOm. 


I 


fru-nds  and  comrades,   what  hh  former  course  has  been, 
and  whether  he  was  prepared  to  meet  the  Judge  of  all  the 
eartli.     I   know   nothing  of  all  this,  but  I  fervently  hope 
tliat  at  the  last  erring,  awful  moment,  when  he  had  just 
eonujiitted  an  act  of  transgression  against  the  laws  of  his 
country,  he  had  in  his  heart,  and  did,  offer  up  this  prayer, 
'  God  be  mereifid  to  me,  a  sinner.'     We  nuist  leave  him  in 
tlie  hands  of  tiie  Almighty,  who  is  both  merciful  and  just. 
A\'e  cannot  change  his  lot,  but  we  have  it  in  our  power  to 
profit  by  the  circumstances  of  his  death.      Beholding  how 
Buddcnly  he  has  been  cut  off,  in  the  prime  and  strength  of 
his  days,  we  may  learn  that  we  too  may  be  called  at  some 
imcxncctcd  moment,  and  tluit  it  behooves  us  to  be  found 
ever  in  the  right  path,  so  living,  so  acting,  that  wc  shall  be 
ready,  wlicn  death  comes,  to  meet  our  Judge  without  fear 
and  with  the  assurance  that  when  we  depart  this  life,  through 
the  righteousness  of  Christ,  we  shall  be  introduced  into  a 
better  and  nobler  country.      I  beg  of  you  earnestly,  my 
dear  brethren,  in  order  to  secure  this  happy  result,  to  turn 
imr>v.ti.itely  from  your  sins,  repenting  of    them   without 
delay,  ind  a]iply  to  Clu-ist  whose  blood  can  alone  wash 
them  away.     Take  the  Bible,  this  precious  gift  from  Heav- 
en, for  your  counsellor  and  guide,  follow  its  instructions, 
and  you  will  be  safe  and  happy,  whether  in  life  or  in  death. 
"  My  bretlu-en,  I  will  say  but  one  word  more  ;  that  word 
I  earnestly  implore  you  to  listen  tcf.     This  book  from  God 
says,  vengeance  is  mine  ;  I  will  repay.     I  fear  it  is  in  your 
hearts  to  seek  revenge  upon  him  who  is  the  author  of  your 
comrade's  death.     I  beseech  you  not  to  do  it.     God  knowa 


If- 


MIUAIMICTII. 


09 


course  has  been, 
Judge  of  ill!  the 
I  fervently  hope 
,vhen  he  had  jiu<t 
t  the  kwrf  (if  hirt 
;r  up  this  prayer, 
must  leave  him  in 
merciful  and  junt. 
t  in  our  power  to 
Beholding  how 
e  and  strength  of 
be  called  at  some 
'CH  us  to  be  found 
■r,  that  we  shall  be 
Fudge  without  fear 
t  this  life,  through 
:  introduced  into  a 
you  earnestly,  my 
ppy  result,  to  turn 
of    them   without 
d  can  alone  wash 
lus  gift  from  Ilcav- 
w  its  instructions, 
in  life  or  in  death, 
d  more  ;  that  word 
lis  book  from  God 
I  fear  it  is  in  your 
the  author  of  your 
do  it.     God  knows 


wlioro  the  wrong  is,  in  tliis  case,  and  Tie,  the  great  A\  (Miger, 
will  iM)t  suiler  it  to  go  unpuuisluMl.  Sooner  or  later  He 
liriims  every  wicked  and  wrong-doer  to  a  just  rewind.  Leave 
:ill  ill  His  righteous  hands,  and  stain  not  your  souls  with 
M,,o(l  and  vioUiice.      Let  lis  seek  the  divine  blessuig." 

Mr.  Norton  then  ollereil  a  short  and  siiii[>lc  prayer,  im- 
ploring the  forgiveness  of  sins,  and  blessings  upon  Patrick's 
wile,  his  companions,  and  the  conununity. 

Maggie,  who  had  wailed  herself  into  perfect  exhaustion  ^ 
and  almost  stupor,  sat  gazing  fixeilly  in  his  face  ;  the  rest 
seemed  hushed  as  by  a  spell,  and  did  not  begin  to  move 
until  some  moments  after  his  voice  ceased. 

Tlien  the  tongues  were  loosened,  and  amid  the  ebbs  and 
flows  of  murmuring  sound,  the  coffin  was  covered,  placed 
up<.n    a   bier   and    borne  to  the  grave,   followed   by  the 

crowd. 

"And  shure,"  said  a  p<}or  Irishwoman  to  her  crony,  as 
they  trudged  along  behind,  "the  praste's  voice  sounded  all 
the  while  like  a  great  blessed  angel,  a  blowin'  through  a 
silver  trumpet.     Shure,  he's  a  saint,  he  is." 


■r 


CILVrTER  IX. 


ADtLR    DUBOIS. 


The  Dubois  famil}-,  tlioiig'i  widely  sc2iaratc(l  hy  social 
rank  and  worldly  possossiijus  from  tlic  po2)idati(iii  around 
flicni,  had  yot,  to  a  certain  degree,  mingled  freely  with  the 
})cople.  Originating  in  France,  they  possessed  the  pecul- 
iar nationtd  faculty  of  readily  adapting  themselves  to  the 
mannoi's  and  customs  of  races  foreiijn  to  their  own. 

It  is  impossible  to  forget  in  the  early  history  of  the  Xorth 
American  colonies,  what  facility  the  French  displayed,  in 
contrast  with  the  English,  in  attaining  communication  with 
the  children  of  the  forest,  in  acrjuiring  and  retaining  their 
confidence,  in  taking  on  their  rude  and  uncultivated  modes 
of  life,  and  in  shaping  even  their  superstitions  to  their  own 
selfish  purposes. 

Of  all  the  foreigners  who  have  attempted  to  dcm^instrate 
to  the  world,  the  social  and  political  problems  of  America, 
who  has  investigated  with  such  insight,  and  d  s  doped  so 
truly  our  manners  and  customs  and  the  spirit  and  genius  of 
our  government  as  Tocquevillc  ? 

Mv.  Dubois,  though  possessing  aconscrvavu-e  power  .htit 
prevented  him  from  desceniling  to  the  low  type  of  character 


:i 
(> 
ii 
tl 
h 

V 

S( 
01 

ir 
(I 
m 

li( 
hi 

1" 
III 

ill 

of 

111 

1» 

pn 
or 
pii 
er 

TVI 


MIUAMIC'III. 


71 


:>p:iratc(l  by  fcocial 
)opuliiti(iii  around 
ctl  fVocly  with  (he 
iscssod  the  pecul- 
themselvos  to  the 
their  own. 
itory  of  the  Xortli 
'uch  displayed,  in 
niinunicatiori  with 
md  retaining  their 
ncultivatcd  modes 
Itions  to  their  own 

ted  to  demonstrate 

licms  of  America, 

and  d  ■*  oh>ped  so 

lirit  and  genius  of 

rvavu'C  power  Tliat 
'  tyjic  of  character 


Miiil  the  lax  priiicipkvs  of  the  coiiiifry,  yet  never  made  any 
i-dicr  than  the  most  (piiet  assertion  of  siip-riui-jty.  It  was 
iiiipossihle  inde(Ml  for  iiim  to  hohl  business  connections  with 
file  rough  setth'rs  without  mingling  freely  witli  them.  *  Uiit 
he  never  assmned  the  air  of  a  master.  lie  frequently  en- 
gaged with  them  in  hold,  adventurous  exploits,  the  aeconi- 
l)lishment  of  which  did  not  involve  an  infringement  of  law  ; 
sometimes  he  put  hand  and  sho.ildcr  to  the  hard  labors  they 
endured,  and  he  was  ever  ready  with  his  sympathy  and  aid 
in  redressing  their  grievances.  Though  often  shocked  at 
tlicir  lawless  and  profane  customs,  ho  yet  recognized  in 
many  of  them  traits  of  generosity  and  ;  (,",;  -ness. 

"Without  a  partichj  of  aggressiveness  in  his  disposition, 
he  h:ul  never  undertaken  actively  the  work  of  reform,  yet 
his  example  of  uprightness  and  integrity  liad  made  an  ini- 
l)ression  upon  the  community.  The  people  treated  him  with 
unvarying  respect  and  confidence,  partly  from  a  sense  of 
Ills  real  superiority,  and  partly,  perhaps,  from  the  very  lack 
of  self-assertion  on  his  side.  Ccjnsequently  without  having 
made  the  least  cfFort  to  do  so,  he  exercised  an  autocratic 
power  among  them. 

i\Irs.  Dubois  visited  the  women  of  the  place  frcquentlv, 
particularly  when  the  men  were  absent  in  their  lumberin<>-. 
or  fishing  operations,  conversing  with  them  freely,  bearing 
patiently  their  superstitious  and  ignorance,  aicUng  them  lib- 
erally  in  temporal  things,  and  sometimes  mingling  kindly 
"^■(jrds  of  counsel  with  her  <rifts. 

Idele's  intercourse  with  the  settlers  was  in  an  altogether 
different  style.     Her  manner  from  earliest  childhood,  when 


72 


MlU-UilCIII. 


f.lK>  fir.-t  lM-:in  (n  run  .,i,.mt  f'-,„u  ()mM'<.ttii.ur   to   anotl.vr, 
lia.l  Invu  !Vto.  JVank,  au'l  i.u; .  : i.'U..     AVhcthir  it  wiis,  that 
having  .siull'.I  tV....i  bahvlu.oil  d'  '  frc^h  furcit  ulr  of  llw  nrw 
v.rlfl',  it.  l.voath  V-.'J  la vir*^'-    '''    ^^'f'"  ''  *"""''^''''  ""^''l'^"- 
dciicc  not  Bhircd  l)y  her  pnvcw.ts,  or,  Avhuther  the  liiiu-hty 
blood  that  liad  flowed  larbaek  in  the  veins   of  auce.-*t.>rs, 
after  coursln-  quietly  along  the  gcnerati.^n.s  had  in  lier  h.- 
conic  btimulated  int.'  n(;w  uctivi^y,  certain  it  is,  she  had  al- 
v,uy,s  tbc  iK.iring  of  one  Ir.ving  authority  and  the  art   ot 
g.  .ver.ung  seemed  u,    :  -ral  to  her.    It  was  strange,  therefore-, 
tint  she  shoul'l  have  l.ccn  ^ueh  a  universal  fav.)rlte  in  the 
,u.I..hhorhood.     But  so  it  was.     Those  who  hahitually  set 
puhHe  law  atdefiauee,  eamc  readUy  under  the  eontrol  of  her 

youth i'ul  sway. 

rt.>-^essing  a  full  share  of  the  irrcpressildc  activity  ot 
childhood,  The  enaeted  the  part  of  lady  of  the  ^lanor, 
assmmn;.-  prerogatives  that  even  her  mother  did  not  thmk 

of  exeri'ising. 

Wheu  ;il)out  eleven  sunuuers  old,  she  opened  one  after- 
noon the  door  of  an  Irish  cabin  and  received  at  ouee  a  cor- 
dial, noi.  /  welcome  from  its  inmates.  She  did  not  howcve, 
make  an"  immediate  response,  for  she  had  begmi  taking  a 
minute  survey  of  the  not  over-nice  premises.  At  lengthr 
Bhe  deigned  to  speak. 

"Fn-id-et  ]\Ialone,  are  you  not  ashamed  to  have  such  u 
disorderly  house  as  this?  Why  don't  y^u  sweep  the  flour 
and  put  things  in  place?" 

"Och  !  hinny,  aiv^  how  can  I  swapc  the  floor  without  a 
brum?"  said  Bridget,  looking  up  iu  some  dismay. 


MlJiA.Mirm. 


73 


ittaijc'   to   iuiotlu'f, 
'hftlioi-  it  was,  that 
■Cot  ail-  of  tlio  new 
I  caivk'j-s  iiulcpcu- 
K'ther  the  liauulity 
/eins   of  ancestors, 
ims,  hail  in  lior  ho- 
iii  it  is,  slic  hail  al- 
ity  and   thi;  art   ot 
1  straii^n'e,  thcrcforo, 
LTsal  favorite  iu  the 
who  habitually  set 
jr  the  control  of  her 

ircssihle  activity  of 
uly  of  the  Manor, 
iiothor  (lid  not  think 

0  opened  one  uftcr- 
ceived  at  once  a  cor- 
Bhe  did  not  howcvc, 
had  begun  taking  a 
i-eniides.     At  lengthr 

ained  to  have  such  a 
y  iu  sweep  the  floor 

ic  the  floor  without  a 
juie  dismay. 


"Didn't  my  father  order  .lames  to  give  yon  a  lironni 
wlienescr  yoii  want  oney  Here  Pat,"  said  .-lie,  to  a  ragged 
nrcliin  ai)(>ut  her  own  age,  who  was  tuniMing  about  o\er 
the  floor  with  a  little  dirty-faecd  baby,  "here,  take  this 
jack-knife  and  go  down  to  the  river  by  Mrs.  Campbell's 
new  house  and  cut  sume  hendoek  bougii.s.  lie  juick.  and 
brinu'  them  back  as  fast  as  you  can."     I'at  started  at  once. 

Allele  tlien  deliberately  took  oil'  her  bonnet  and  shawl, 
rolled  them  up  into  as  small  a  package  as  she  couhl  make, 
and  ])laccd  tliem  on  tlic  nearest  a])pro.\imation  to  a  (lean 
spot  lliat  could  be  found.  Tlien  slie  stooped  down,  took 
the  baby  from  the  floor  and  handed  him  to  his  mother. 

''Here,  Bridget,  take  Johnny,  wash  his  face  imd  put 
him  on  a  clean  dress.  1  know  he  has  another  dress  and 
it  ought  to  be  clean." 

"  Vcs.  He  "s  got  one  yon  gave  him,  Miss  Ady,  but  it 
flint  clane  at  all.    Shnre  it's  time  to  wash  I'm  wanting,  it  is." 

"  Now,  don't  tell  me,  Ih'idget,  that  you  have  not  time  to 
wa.-h  your  children's  clothes  and  keep  them  decent.  Vmi 
need  not  spend  so  many  hours  smoking  yoiu'  pipe  over  the 
ashes." 

"  Von  would  n't  deprive  a  poor  oratur  of  all  the  comfort 
she  has  in  the  world,  would  ye,  hinny?" 

"  You  ought  to  take  comfort  in  keeping  your  hmise  and 
children  clean,  liridget." 

In  the  meanwhile,   Bridget   had  washed  Johnny's  face, 
and  there  bemg  no  clean  dress  ready  for  the  little  fellow, 
Allele  said,   "Come,  Bridget,  put  on  a  kettle  of  water, 
jiick  up  your  clothes,  and  do  your  washing." 
7 


4 


.mii:amk  in. 


"  Slmrc,  iiiiil  I  will,  if  ye  f^ay  ft).  Miss  Ady." 
'I'lic  [tour  wliil'tlcss   tliiii^^liiiviii;,'  i»liU'c(l  tliu  buby  on  tho 
flour  a^'iiiu,  began  to  stir  iihout  aiid  mnkv  ready. 

Adi;le  sat  poking  and  turning  over  tho  ehubby  littlo 
Jolmny  with  her  loot. 

At  last,  Pat  appeared  witli  a  modrrate  ([iiantity  of 
liendoek  boughs;,  whieli  Adcle  told  him  to  throw  u[)on  the 
floor,  —  then  to  hand  her  the  knife  and  sit  down  by  her 
side  and  learn  to  niiiko  a  broom.  She  seleeted,  elipped, 
and  laid  together  the  boughs,  until  slio  had  made  (piile  ii 
pile:  sent  Put  for  a  strong  piece  of  twine  and  an  old  broom 
liandle  and  then  secured  the  boughs  lirndy  upon  it. 

"Now  Pal,'"  she  said,  "here  is  a  nice,  flew  jack-knife. 
If  you  will  promise  nie  that  you  will  cut  boughs  and  make 
your  mother  two  new  brooms,  just  like  this,  every  week, 
the  knife  sludl  be  yours." 

Pat,  with  eyes  that  stood  out  an  unmentionable  distance, 
and  mouth  stretched  from  ear  to  ear,  promised,  and  jVdele 
jn-oceeded  vigorously  to  sweep  tlie  apartment.  In  tho 
Course  of  half  an  hour,  tho  rot)m  wore  a  wholly  different 
aspect. 

'*  And  who  tould  the  like  of  ye,  how  to  make  a  lannu 
like  that,  hinny?"said  Bridget,  looking  on  in  admiration 
of  her  skill. 

"  Xubody  told  me.  I  saw  Aunt  Patty  ^IcXab  do  it 
once.  You  see  it  is  easy  to  do.  Now,  Bridget,  remember. 
Have  your  house  clean  after  this,  or  I  will  nut  come  to  see 
you." 

"Yes,  shurc,  I'll  have  them  blessed  brums  as  long's 
tikcfc  'e  a  tree  grows." 


w 


MiijA.Minri. 


75 


Vdy." 

the  biiby  oil  tho 

c'iuly. 

,0   cliubl)y  little 

tc  ([(i;intity  of 
i  throw  ui)on  the 
it  down  liy  Iior 
•Iccteil,  clipped, 

111    lll!l(k'    (|uill'    11 

ud  an  old  bi\)itui 
ii|)ou  it. 
fli'w  jack-knife. 
Jiinhs  and  make 
liiri,  every  week, 

ionable  dis^taiioe, 
ji^ed,  and  Adele 
•tnu'iit.  In  tlie 
wholly  ditlerent 

to  make  a  l)rnni 
)n  in  admiration 

ty  ^leXab  do  it 
idi;et,  remember. 
[  nut  come  to  see 


brums  as  long's 


And  true  it  \va<i,  that  Adele'.s  threat  not  to  visit  her 
c;ibin  proved  ^iieh  ii  (<ahitary  ti-rror  to  poor  Ilrid'^-et.  that 
there  was  a  perceptible  improvement  in  her  domestic 
arranj^'ements  ever  sifter. 

As  Adele  <<:n'\Y  older,  the  aseendeney  she  luid  btainod 
in  her  obsenre  emj)ire  daily  inercuscd.  At  twelve,  she 
was  .sent  to  a  convent  at  Halifax,  where  she  remained 
three  years.  At  the  end  of  that  period,  she  retin-ned  to 
Miramichi,  and  resinned  at  once  her  rciral  sceptre.  Tho 
sway  nhv  held  over  the  i)eoi)le  was  really  one  of  love, 
,t:roiinded  on  a  reeoijnition  of  her  superiority.  Circiilatim^- 
ain;iiiu:  (hem  freely,  she  became  thoroughly  acquainted 
Avith  their  habits  and  modes  of  li\inii-,  and  she  was  ever 
ready  to  aid  them,  under  their  outward  wants  and  their 
deeper  heart  troubles.  A  eommmiity  must  have  some  one 
to  look  up  to,  whether  conscious  of  the  want  or  not. 
Hero-worship  is  natural  to  tin-  human  soul,  and  the  miscel- 
laneous group  of  women  and  children  scattered  over  tho 
settlement,  found  in  Adele  a  strong,  j  aous,  sclf-relviii"- 
spirit,  able  to  h-  'v  them  out  of  their  dil-ficulties,  who  could 
cheer  them  wIrii  down-hearted,  and  spur  tUem  no  when 
getting  diseoui.;ged  or  inefficient. 

I)Ut,  added  lu  this  were  the  charms  of  her  youthful 
beauty,  Avhi.-ii  even  tho  humblest  felt,  v\ithout  perhaps 
knowing  it,  and  an  :'ii  of  authority  that  swept  away  all 
opposition,  and  held,  nl  limcs,  even  Aunt  Patty  ^L.-Xab  at 
arms'  lei^th.  Yes,  it  must  be  confessed  that  the  young 
lady  was  in  the  ha'>it  of  queening  it  over  the  people  ;  but 
they  were  perfectly  willing  to  have  it  so,  and  both  hned 
and  wci ';  proud  of  their  little  .lespot. 


70 


MIIIAMICIII. 


I;i  (he  iiiciiu  limo,  llii<  DiiImm^  ihiiilly  wciv  livin.ir  ii  li(n 
vitliiii  ;i  lilr,  l<.  tlic  /«y//r  i.l'  wWuU  llic  iTiidcr  iiiii-l  now  In: 
jntni»lii<'C(l. 

It  liiis  lurn  Hiiiil  tliiil  llic  «iiitu;u(l  !is|.oct  of  their  dwcll- 
iiiLj  was  rcsiu-ctiiMi",  and  in  tliat  irijanl  was  not  jiTrally  at 
vnriaiKT,  vKrv^tt  in  M/f,  with  thi-  snrniiindiii},'  lial)itatii.iis. 
AVithiii,  howovor,  thiMv  wc-ro  apaitiiicnts  iiirnishcd  and 
ndi;r  I'd  ill  sinh  a  iiiaiiacr  as  to  liotokoii  the  charaeti  r  and 
tii-^tt'S  (if  the  iinnatcs. 

In  the  M't'ond  ftnry,  directly  over  the  ppacions  dininj,'- 
rooni  ahrady  descrihcd,  then-  was  a  I.-iil?  apartment  wilh 
two  windows  reaching"'  lu-arly  to  th(^  floor.  It  was  eaq.ctcd 
with  crimson  and  hlack  Tn-nsscls,  contained  two  solas  of 
French  workmanship,  made  in  a  heavy,  tiionL,di  ricli  style, 
covered  witli  cloth  also  of  <Tinison  and  Mack  ;  with  chairs 
fashioned  and  carved  to  match  the  conches,  and  llni-hed  in 
the  same  niat»'rial.  A  (jnaint-lookinj,'  piano  stood  in  one 
corner  of  the  n  -n.  In  the  ..  nliv  was  a  Chinese  laccpiercd 
table  on  which  stood  ii  lamp  m  hxou/.o.,  the  bowl  <>\'  which 
was  snpported  by  varions  broadly  .  'illnir,  -.q-ote.Mpie  crea- 
tnres,  belonging  to  a  genns  known  only  hi  the  iloniiiin  of 

fable. 

On  the  evening  fijllowiiig  tlie  bnrial  of  poor  Pat  ]Mc- 
Grath,  :\Ir;.  Dnbois  sat  in  this  apartment,  en-aged  in 
enibroidering  ii  fancy  piece  of  ihx'^>^  lor  Adtle.  That 
yonng  lady  was  reclining  niion  a  sofa,  and  was  looking 
earnestly  at  a  painting  of  the  Madonna,  a  copy  4i-om  some 
old  ma.'ter,  hanging  marly  opposite  to  her.  It  was  now 
bathed  in  the  yellow  moonlight,  wbich  heightened  the  won- 


d. 

til 


to 

\n 
to 


or 

fa 

ni 

Ik^ 

a 

dc 

CO 

I" 

an 

l»i 
in 

as 

ar 

th 


MinAiMinir, 


77 


Tro  livliifj  n  liHn 
Icr  mii-t  now  lie 

t  (if  tlicir  thvcll- 
as  not  jiTrally  at 
liiiLT  lial)itatii>iiH, 
•<  t'iiriii>li('il  ami 
10  rharactiT  and 

Hpaci()ii>»  (lliiiii,!^- 
a|»artiiiL'iit  willi 
It  was  carpc'ti'tl 
K'(l  two  solas  of 
luiii-fh  ricli  style, 
lack  ;  with  rliairn 
S  ami  I'liii.-licd  in 
mo  stooil  in  one 
['liiiu'st>  lac(|nci('il 
lie  Ijowl  "f  wliicli 
f,  <j;rote-iine  crea- 
in  the  iloniajn  of 

of  poor  Pat  ^h'- 
lent,  eii-aged  in 
,r  Adtk'.  Tliat 
and  \vas  lookinif 
a  cojiy  ii'om  Home 
ler.  It  was  now 
liij-htcncd  the  w(in- 


derfnlly  saintly  expression  in  tlic  countonnnoes  of  the  holy 
mother  and  ehild. 

*'  .Sec  !  ma  bnnnr  mc'T,  the  hli  ^sed  >raric  looka  down  on 
n-i  with  a  s\veet  smik' lo-ni';ht." 

"  She  always  looks  kindly  ii]K)n  lis,  cficir,  when  vrc  try 
(o  ill  riuiit,"'  said  Mis.  Diiiiois,  smiliiif^.  '»  Doulitlcss  voii 
lia\c  tried  to  he  irood  fo-day  and  sluMipproves  your  elliirt." 

"  Now,  Jii:^t  (ell  me,  inti.  rfiirc  »)^/7.  how  shi'  would  re- 
i.'-ard  me  to-ni^dit  if  I  had  eommitted  one  wicked  deed 
t(i-<lay." 

"  This  same  ^laric  looks  sad  and  wistfid  somctimca,  my 
Adele." 

"  True.  Ihit  not  jiarfienl:  \  at  si/rfi  times.  It  depends 
on  whleh  side  the  lii;Iit  strikes  the  pietnre,  whether  she  looks 
sad  or  sniilinj^.  .Fust  tlait,  and  nothing  more. .  Now  the 
iiio(mlij,dit  gives  her  a  smiling  exjiression.  And  plea.<c 
listen,  c/icra  were,  I  have  luMird  that  there  is,  eomcwhere, 
a  Madonna,  into  whose  eoiintonanee  the  old  painter  en- 
deavored to  throw  an  air  of  profonndest  repo>e.  lie  sue- 
eeedcd.  I  have  heard  that  that  jiiitine  has  a  strange 
(lower  to  soothe.  (Jazing  upon  it  the  spirit  grows  calm 
and  the  voice  unconsciously  sinks  into  a  whisper.  Our 
priests  woidd  tell  the  common  people  that  it  is  amiraenlous 
influence  exerted  upon  them  hy  the  Virgin  herself,  where- 
!is  it  is  only  the  eflict  produced  hy  the  exquisite  skill  of  the 
artist.      Eh,  blcn  !  our  ehureli  is  full  of  superstitions." 

"  Wc  will  talk  no  more  of  it,  mnjilk.  You  do  not  love 
the  holy  Marie  as  you  ought,  I  fcii'..'' 

"Love  her!   indeed  I  do.     She  i?  the  most  blest  and 


78 


MHIAMirill. 


honoml  nnu.n^  wonion,— tlu-  moll.or  cf  tl.o  Saviour.  Hut 
why  »-l."iil<l  >v«'  l>vay  to  Ii.t,  wImm  .l.-^ii-*  i^  the  only  i.itcr- 
rcs'h.or  i'or  our  /lus    will,    the    Fathor?      Why,  ma  d>in 

vicic  y "' 

^^Ilrhis !  mnfilh.  You  h^anicl  to  Mi-ht  the  iutcrcc.-sion 
of  Ihr  holy  HuhitH  uhilc  you  were  at  the  coiivcut.  It  i^ 
f.tranjj;c'.     I  thou^^lit  I  <'oulil  trus^t  you  tlicri'." 

-  Ho  not  think  it  the  fault  of  th(!  listers,  rhiic  vicic 
They  (li<l  llair  <hity.  This  way  of  thiukinj,'  amc  tu  inc.  I 
tliil  not  seek  i(,  inili'od." 

"Mow  ilid  it  conic  to  you,  via  pavrrc/itlc?" 

"  I  will  tell  y<ai.  'I'ho  first  time  I  wont  into  the  convent 
parlor,  Sister  A.lri.nnc,  thinkin-  to  nmune  me,  took  me 
around  the  room  and  hhowed  me  ils-euriosilies.  Ihit  I  wan 
fllKMl  witn  an  infn.ite  dis-u.t.  I  did  n..t  di-tinctly  knovv 
then  why  1  was  ho  .^iekened,  hut   I   understand  it  all  now." 

"  What  tlid  you  see,  AdMeV" 

"Eh  I  those'horri.l  relies  of  saints,— those  teeth,  those 
bones,  those  l.x-ks  of  hair  in  the  eahinet.  Then  that  awliil 
skeleton  of  sister  A<,Mies,  who  il.undedthe  eonvent  and  was 
the  first  Ahhess,  covered  with  wax  and  jirc^erved  in  a 
crystal  case !  I  thou;,dit  I  was  in  some  eharnel-hoiise,  I 
could  hardly  breathe.  D<.  you  like  such  parlor  ornaments 
as  those,  ma  cfierc  mere?" 

"Not  quite." 

"What  do  we  Avant  of  the  dry  bones  of  the  Paints, 
Avhen  we  have  memoirs  of  their  precious  lives?  They 
would  thinnselves  spurn  the  superstition  that  consecrates 
mgre  earthly  dust.     It  nauseates  me  to  tliink  of  it." 


MIUAMIcm. 


ri) 


li(>  Siiviniir.     Hilt 
(  U  tilt;  ttiily  inter- 
Why,  nui  I'liii'e 

;lit  tlK'iiitt'roo.«,<*i(in 

he  I'ouvciit.     Il  i^ 

ere." 

istors,  rhi'ie  vicrc. 

iiii^  aimc  to  inc.     I 

ftlh?" 

lit  iiitotlio  ooiivont 
nunc  iiu',  took  mc 
osilics.  r.iit  1  wiw 
lot  (li.-tincfly  kin>w 
LTHtiiiid  it  nil  now." 

-those  tooth,  those 
.  'Hioii  that  uwl'iil 
lie  convent  iind  was 
n<l  jmservod  in  a 
>  chiirnel-lionse,  I 
h  parlor  uruamcnts 


moa  of  the  saints, 
cious    lives?     They 
on   that  eonsecratcs 
tliink  of  it." 


•»  l\iirrihz,  niiijiUc." 

•'  My  tVieiiil  iVoin  the  States,  Malxl  MMiton,  came  to 
the  coinent.  llic  diy  I  airiseil.  A-<  oiir  studies  wei'c  ihu 
fiinne.  and  iis,  nt  lii>l,  we  were  liolli  Imme-iek,  llie  sisteiN 
piiinitted  us  to  lie  to;j;ethi'r  iiiueli  I'l'  the  time.  /■.'//  /  Inrn  ! 
I  read  her  lionks,  her  Hiltle,  and  so  liuht  dawned.  She 
n-ed  to  pray  to  (he  Father,  throu:j;h  the  l{e(|eeiner.  I 
liked  that  way  lie.r.t.  fhit  mn  iivrc,  our  cathedral  service  is 
^nll!in^(;.  There  is  nothinj,'  like  tliitl.  Now  you  will  I'or- 
"ive  mo.  The  arehes  tiie  altar,  the  incense,  the  •;lorious 
sar'nii"  waves  of  music,  — these  raised  me  and  Mahel,  like- 
wise,  up  to  the  lofty  third  heaven.  How  hl^h,  how  holy 
we  felt,  when  we  worshipiied  there.  Ijeeausc  \  like  fiie 
ealhedral,  you  will  for-ivc  me  for  all  1  said  before,  — will 
you  not,  ma  rlirrc  nirn:'/" 

Turning;  her  lieail  smldenly  towards  her  mother,  Adele 
saw  her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

*'  E/i !  iiKi  c/irrc  mrrc,  juinhnncz  mni.  I  have  pained 
you."  And  she  rose  and  Hun;,'  her  arms,  passionately, 
aiMund  her  mother's  ncek. 

"  l\iuvri"ltllr!"  said  the  nidHier,  relurnin<i:  her  eniliraeo 
mournfnlly, '"  you  will  wamler  away  from  the  elmreli. — 
our  holv  eliiireh.  It  would  not  have  been  thus,  had  wo 
remained  in  sunny  IMeardy.  Eh!  oiMlcr  jc  710 jmis" 
■  "  What  is  it,  c/ierc  mere,"  said  Adele,  "  that  you  cannot 
forget?  There  is  something  J  have  long  wished  to  know. 
,\Vhat  was  there,  before  you  oainc  here  to  live?  Why  do 
you  sometimes  sit  and  look  eo  thoughtful,  so  sad  and  wish- 
ful?    Tell  me,  —tell  mc,  tlmt  I  may  comfort  you." 


80 


]\tiuA5iiC'ni. 


-  I  will  tell  you  all,  A.lolo,  yes,  —  all.     It  is  time  for 
you  to  know,  but  — not  to-night  — not  to-night." 
' '  To-movrow  then,  mii.  mere  ?  " 
< '  Yes.  Yes  —  to-morrow." 


AVCC 
llioi 
^v  r(  1 
Iiiiii 
Ills 
He 
;^t^e 
'1 
the 
all 
witl 
iiev 
niiti 


woe 
war 
mei 
]'lo 

ti;C 

his 


It  is  time  for 


)-iiiglit." 


CIIAPTEIl  X. 


ricAnDV. 


"  "Weki"  yo  not  for  tlio  dciid,  neither  bemoan  lilni :  Imt 
Avoc'p  pore  f  )r  liiiii  that  p;ooth  away  :  for  lu-  shall  return  no 
more,  nor  .<ee  his  native  country."  The  i)rop]iet,  who 
wrote  these  words,  well  knew  the;  exile's  grief.  He  was 
hiniseU'  an  exile,  lie  thou,';ht  of  .lerusaleni,  the  eity  of 
jiis  home,  his  love,  and  his  heart  was  near  to  hreakiuy. 
lie  liuu"'  his  harp  upon  the  willow  ;  he  s^at  down  by  the 
t-treams  of  Babylon  and  wept. 

The  terrible  mahuly  of  homesickness,  —  it  has  eaten  out 
tlie  A  igor  and  beauty  of  many  a  life.  The  soul,  alien  to 
all  around,  forlorn  anfid  the.  siiOst  cuehanting  seencs,  filled 
with  ceaseless  longing  f  )r  a  renewal  oF  past  delights,  can 
never  find  a  remedy,  until  it  is  transplanted  back  to  its 
native  dime. 

Nor  was  the  proi)hct  singular  in  his  experience  of  the 
woes  of  exile.  We  have  heard  of  the  lofty-spirited  Dante, 
wiuidering  from  eity  to  city,  carrying  with  him,  iu  l)anish- 
iiieut,  irrepressible  and  unsatisfied  yearnings  for  his  beloved 
Florence;  we  have  seen  the  (i reek  Islander,  borne  a  cap- 
ti  e  from  home,  sighing,  in  Aain,  f  )r  the  dash  and  roar  of 
Ids  familiar  seas ;  we  have  seen  the  Switzer,  transplanted 


82 


ArinAMicin. 


to  milder  cli.nos  nm\  move  raaiant  skies,  yet  longing  f  .r 
the  stern  mountain  forms,  the  breezes  and  eelioes  of  l.is 
native  land.  Ah  !  who  does  not  remember,  with  u  shud- 
der, the  <lespairing  thoughts,  choking  tears,  and  days  nf 
silent  misery  that  clouded  his  own  boyhood,  and  perhaps 
even  some  days  of  his  early  manhot)d? 

OuhUcrje  no  puis.     Poor  lady  !  she  had  been  homcsi.'k 

twenty  years. 

On  the  afternoon  followhig  the  conversation  recorded  iii 
the  last  chapter,  ISlvs.  Dubois  was  ready  to  unfold  to  Adele 
the  story  of  lier  past  life.  They  were  sitting  in  the  parlor. 
The  golden  glory  of  the  Sei)tember  sun  gave  an  intense 
hue  'to  the  crimson  furniture,  lighted  up  the  face  of  tlie 
.Madonna  with  a  new  radiance,  and  touched  the  ivory  keys 
of  the  piano  with  a  fresh  polish.  Adele's  eyes  were  fixed 
with  eager  expectation  tipon  her  mother. 

"  You  knoNV,  ma  chore,  "  I^Irs.  Dubois  began,  "  we  once 
lived  in  France.  But  you  cannot  know,  I  trust  you  never 
may,  what  it  cost  us  to  leave  our  beautiful  Pieardy,— what 
^vc  have  suffered  in  remaining  here,  exiled  in  this  rude 
country.  Yet  then  it  seemed  our  best  course.  Indeed, 
we  thought  there  was  no  other  path  for  us  so  good  as  this. 
We  were  yoimg,  and  ihd  not  enough  consider,  perhaps, 
what  such  a  change  m  our  life  involved.  I  must  tell  you, 
my  Adele,  how  it  came  about. 

In  the  province  of  Pieardy  not  many  miles  from  the  city 
of  Amiens,  there  was  a  fine,  but  not  large  estate,  border- 
ing on  the  Eiver  Somme.  A  long  avenue  of  ])oplars  loil 
from  the  main  road  up  a  gentle  slope  imtil  it  opened  upon 


a  hni 
the  ^ 
llowc 
stitf, 
'i  what 
fount 

IVolU 

jii»t  1 
Then 
statel 
wheri 

ti)  [)0 

long, 
so  sw 
I  sp( 
iioiit 
extor 
Tliou 
rearc( 
who  ( 

In 
spent 

Th 
of  my 
CVuni 
the  y 

murri 
.*oucc 
•■vith  : 


MIII.UIICIII. 


!s,  yet  longitip;  fi>v 
and  crliOL'S  of  liis 
luber,  with  a  sliiul- 
tcai's,  ami  days  uf 
■hood,  and  perhaps 

lad   been  homesick 

•rsation  recorded  in 
r  to  unfold  to  Adelo 
itting  in  the  parlor, 
ui  gave  an  intense 
up  the  face  of  tlic 
;hed  the  ivory  keys  i 
.'le's  eyes  were  fixed 

is  bcn;an,  "  we  once 
V,  I  trust  you  never 
fnlPicardy, — what 
exiled  in  this  rude 
st  course.  Indeed, 
L-  us  so  good  as  thi:*. 
I  consider,  perhaps, 
\.     I  must  tell  yon, 

■f  miles  from  the  city 
large  estate,  bordcr- 
cuue  of  ])oplars  led 
Lintil  it  opened  npou 


a  broad,  green  platcan  (if  grass,  studded  with  giant  trees, 
the  growth  of  eentiu'ies.  Here;  and  there  Averc  trim  little 
iluwer-beds,  laid  out  in  a  variety  of  fantastic  shapes,  with 
still",  glossy,  green,  closely-clij)pcd  Ijorders  of  box.  And, 
\  what  was  my  childish  admiration  and  deliglit,  there  was  a 
'  fiiuntaiu  that  poured  itself  out  in  oozing,  dripjjing  droj)3 
I'nmi  the  flowing  hair  and  finger  ti[)S  of  a  marljle  Venus, 
ju.-t  rising  in  the  inuncnse  basin  and  wringing  out  her  locks. 
Then  the  [);u-k, — there  was  none  more  beautifid,  more 
stately,  extending  far  back  to  the  banks  of  the  Somme, 
where  birds  sat  on  every  bough  :uid  the  nightingale  seemed 
til  ])onr  its  very  heart  away,  singing  so  thrillingly  and  so 
king.  I  hear  the  liquid  notes  now,  my  Adele,  so  tender, 
so  sweet !  At  the  end  of  the  avenue  of  poplars  of  which 
I  spoke  stood  the  chateau,  with  tlic  trhn  flcnvcr-beds  in 
iVont.  It  was  built  of  brown  stone,  not  much  ornamented 
externally,  with  four  round  towers,  one  in  each  (nirner. 
Though  not  as  old  as  some  of  those  castles,  it  had  been 
reared  several  centuries  before,  by  a  Count  de  Rossillon, 
who  owned  the  estate  and  lived  on  it. 

In  that  chateau,  I  first  saw  the  light  of  day,  and  thcio  I 
spent  my  hap[)y  childhood  arid  v  lolh. 

The  estate  of  Rossilli.n  had  bc^.i  bequeathed  by  the  will 
of  my  grandfather,  to  his  twu  son  j.  The  elder,  the  present 
Cuimt  de  Rossillon,  inherited  the  larger  portion ;  my  father, 
the  younger  son,  the  smrller  share. 

My  father  was  a  Bouapartist,  and  at  the  time  of  his 
raurriagc  held  a  high  rank  in  the  army.  During  his  ab- 
sence from  the  country,  my  mother  resided  ut  the  chateau 
■vith  her  brother-in-law,  the  Count. 


w 


84 


MTRAMICm. 


One  (lav  In  Jnne,  new.  .rnvo-l  of  th.  sua.lon  aoath  of 
.„y  i^ttlici^     It  was  connnunioatea   to  my  -nother,  by  the 
messono-cr  AvUo    brousht    it,    witbout    precaution.      lb. 
,i,..Ut.  one  bunr  after,  I  was  n.bered    into    an  orpbune,! 
existence    and  my  .notber  took   ber    departure    fronx    tbo 
world.     Tbink  of  me  Adele,  tbn.s  tbrown  a  wad  upon  ibc 
sbore  of  life.     Yet,  tbou^'b  born  In  tbe  .badow  ot  r.  great 
sorrow,  sunli-bt  struck  aero.,  my  patb. 

'I'ho  faitbful  Lonnc,  wbo  bu.l  taken  eare  of  nn'  motbc  -a 
her   iniancv    and   bad  never  left    ber.    now   took    ebar,e 
of  u.e       Sbe  watcbed  ovcm-  me  faltbftdly  and  filled  up  nn 
cbiblbood  witb  afteetionate  attention  and  innoee.^  pa.tnac. 
My  uncle,  tbe  Count,  wbo  bad  never  been   marr.ed,  loved 
p  Jted,  and  indulged  me  in  every  wi.b.     AVben  I  grew  old 
!„,,.,b,  be  .eeured  a  governess  well  qualified  to  teaeb  and 
discipline  mc.     Under  ber  care,  witb  tbe  aul  of  maste. 
i„   U.Un,     music,    a.d    drawing,    tnan    Annens,  I   wo 
tbrougb  tbe  course  of  instruction  considered  ueeessaiy  t.. 
young  ladies  at  tbat  time. 

I  ;as  ar  your  age  n.y  Adele  wben  I  first  met  your  fatbe, . 

11.  ^vas  not  tbe  bronzed  and  .•areworn  man  you  see  nm  nov.  ^_  ^^^ 

Ab  !  n..     He  was  young  and  gay,  witb  a  tab^on  glance  and  h  ^^^  ^ 

,,,a<.k    wreatbing   locks    banging   over  bis   wlnte,    smooth        ^^^^^ 

h,.,v.      Ills  fiitber  was   of  noble  bb.  d,  and  syn.pat In.cd        ^,^^^^ 

warmly  witb  tbe  detbrone.l   liourb.av  .     He  was  no  lover        ^^^  ^ 

,,  tbe  great  Consul.     Tbe  political  tr  -ublc.  m  1  ranee  bad   ^  ^.^^^ 

operated  In  ways  greatly  to  impoverisb  lus  bous^.  .    ^^^^^ 

lie  owned  and  occupied  only  tbe  remnant  of  wbatL.l  ^   ^^^^ 

been  a  large  estate,  udjoinit.g  tbat  of  tbe  (^ount  do  Kos- 

tillou. 


w 


liiinAMicin. 


85 


sudilcii  tlt'atli  nf 
IV  niother,  by  ihv, 
precaution.  'I'li't^^ 
into  an  orpliuuLil 
parturc  from  the  l\ 
vn  a  waif  upon  the  y 
sliudow  of  ii  gi'e;it 


xo,  of  my  mother  in 
now   took    chavii'C 

[ly  and  filled  up  niy 

I  innocent  pa^t'nlu•. 

!en   married,  loved, 
When  I  grew  old 

lalified  to  teach  ami 
the  aid  of  masters 

u    Amiens,  I   Aveiit 

iidcred  ncee^riary  iW 

irst  met  yonr  father. 

anyoiiscclum  now. 
a  falcon  glance  and  i) 
his   white,    smooth  ' 

d,  and  sympathi/.ed 
He  Ai-as  no  lover 

mbles  in  France  had 

,  his  hou^e. 

jmuant  of  what  hud  ^ 

■  the  ('ouut  de  Kos- 


A^^ule  acquiring  his  education,  your  fallicr,  except  at 
o.'casional  intervals,  was  six  years  fi-om  home,  and  it  so 
hap[)eiied  that  I  never  u}et  him  in  my  childhood.  Indeed, 
tlie  families  were  not  on  terms  of  intimacy.  On  his  return 
from  the  University,  I  first  saw  him.  Eh!  blcn!  It  is  the 
same  old  story  that  you  have  lieard  and  read  of.  In  your 
hooks,  my  Adclc.  We  became  acquainted,  I  will  not  stop 
now,  to  tell  you  how,  and  soon  learned  to  love  each  other. 
Time  passed  on,  and  at  last  your  father  sought  the  consent 
of  Miy  uncle,  to  our  marriage.  But  he  put  aside  the  prop- 
osition with  anger  and  scorn.  He  thought  that  Claude 
Dubois  was  neither  distinguished  nor  rich  enough  to  match 
his  niece.  In  his  heart,  he  had  reserved  me  for  some  con- 
soieuous  position  in  the  great  circle  at  Paris,  while  I  had 
iiiveu  mvself  to  an  obscure  youth  in  Picardy. 

Your  fadier  was  too  honorable  to  ask  me  to  marry  him 

without  the  consent  of  the  Count,  and  too  proud  to  take  me 

ill  his  poverty.     So  one  day,  after  his  stormy  interview 

witli  my  uncle,  he  came  to  me  and  said  he  was  going  away 

U)  endeavor  to  get  fame,  or  wealth,  to  bestow  upon  me  and 

make  himself  more  worthy  in  tlie  eye^  of  the  Count  de 

Kos,,illon.     Yet  he  wished  to  releiise  me  from  any  feeling 

of  obligi-iion   to  him,  as,  he  said,  I  was  too  young  and 

had   too  little  accpuuntanec  with  life  and  society  to   know 

•iilly  my  own   heart.     It  would  not  be  right,  he  tlumght, 

to  bind  me  U)  himself  by  auy  promise.     I  told  himray  alFee- 

tiou  for  liinr  would  never  change,   but  acquii-^ced  in  his 

arrangements  with  a  sad  and  foreboding  iv  art.      In  a  few 

weeks,  he  embarked  for  India. 

8 


86 


MMIAMICIU. 


Tlieu  .nv  uuclo  r..u.ca  himself  from  tho  in.Tt.t,  of  Iuh 
quiet  luil,it.s  and  laudc  an-.nj,n^..nents  for  a  journey  tlu-ou^L 
France  and  Italy,  •    ••  '^  U'^  --1  I  wan  to  take  wtth   luu.. 

I  received  the  .  ...^  .uent  with  inaillerencc,  heu,^ 
whollv  occupied  ,:rief  at  the  bitter  separ^.tion  h-u>u 

your  fDthcr.  The  clian-o  however  proved  .salutary,  and, 
in  a  week  after  our  departure,  1  felt  hope  once  more  dawn- 

in;-'  in  my  heart. 

The   ..ountry  throuo-h  which  we  travelled  ^vas  sunny  and 
beautitid,  veined  with  sparkling  streams,  shadowed  I. y  U.- 
ests,  studded  with  the  olive  and  uudberry,  and  with  vnie. 
bearing  the  h.scious  grape  for  the  vintage.     The  constant 
chano-e  of  scene  and  the  <laily  renewal  of  objects  of  mter- 
0,,  ami    novelty,  combined   with    the    elasticity  of  youth, 
brou'dit    back  some   degree    of  my  former    buoyancy  an.l 
aaye"y.     ISIy  uncle    was    so  evidently  delighted  with   tl.c 
return  of  my  old  cheerfulness,  and  exerted  himself  so  nnuh 
to  hei-diten  it  in  every  way,  that  I  knew  he  sincerely  lose 
me,  and  was  doing  what  he  really  thought  would  in  the  end 
contribute  to  my  hai>piness.      He  judged  that  my  aftec- 
lion  I'or  your  tiither  was  a  transient,  youthful  dream,  and 
woidd  soon  be  forgotten  ;  he  fancied,  no  doubt,  I  was  even 
then  beginning  to  wake  up  Irom  it.     He  wished  to  pre- 
vent uic  from  forming  an  early  and  ^vhat  he  considered  an 
imprudent  marriage,  whic-h  I  might  one  day  regret,  un- 

availingly. 

An.r  it  proved  to  be  all  right,  my  Adele.  lour  fiither 
and  I  were  both  young,  and  the  course  the  Count  de  Eos- 
sillon  took  with  us,  was  a  good  though  severe  test  ot  our 


I 


■m 


BnuAMicirt. 


87 


tlio  iiKn-tiii  of  li'iH 
a  juurncy  tliroii;j;li 
to  take  with  liim. 
iiKlinorcncc,  hnws,  L 
n-  scpiinvtiDU  frum  a 
vod  .siilutary,  and,  "f 
c  once  more  dawu- 

llcd  was  sunny  and 
:,  shadoNVcd  by  t'or- 
ry,  and  with  vines 
\ru\  The  constant 
of  objects  of  Intor- 
clasticity  of  youth, 
•mcr  buoyancy  and 
dcli,ij;htcd  with  the 
ted  him^^clf  so  nuirh 
w  he  sincerely  lo\iil 
dit  would  in  tlu'  cud 
V'-cd  that  niv  afl'ci'- 
pjuthful  dream,  and 
10  doubt,  I  was  even 
He  wished  to  i)rc- 
hat  ho  considered  an 
one  day  regret,  un- 

Adelc.  Your  fothor 
se  the  Count  de  Eus- 
<di  severe  test  of  our 


aircction.  In  the  meanwhile,  I  was  secretly  .sustained  l)y 
the  hope  that  your  father's  ellbrts  would  be  crowned  with 
success,  and  that,  after  a  few  years,  lio  would  return  and  uiy 
unelc,  having  found,  that  nothing  could  draw  mc  iVimi  uiy 
attachment  to  hiin,  would  out  of  his  own  love  i'or  me  and 
cnusideration  for  my  happiness,  at  last  consent  to  our 
union. 

\\\',  crossed  the  Al[)s  and.  went  into  Italy.  Here  a  new 
Avorld  was  opened  to  me, —  a  world  (jf  beauty  and  art.  It 
lie.-towed  upon  me  many  hours  of  exquisite  enjoyment. 
The  Count  travelled  w  itii  his  own  carriage  and  servants, 
and  we  lingered  wherever  I  felt  a  desire  to  prolong  my 
oijscrvations.  lie  purchased  a  cidlection  of  pieturcs,  stat- 
ues, and  other  gems  and  curiosities  of  art.  Among  the  rest, 
the  ]\Iadonna  there,  my  Adele,  which  he  presented  to  nie, 
because  I  so  much  liked  it.  lint  I  nmst  not  linger  now. 
On  (.iiu-  return  to  France,  we  spent  a  month  at  Paris,  and 
there,  though  too  young  to  be  introduced  into  society,  I  met 
in  private  many  distinguished  and  fashionable  people,  who 
were  friends  of  the  Count. 

\Vc  were  absent  from  the  chateau  on(!  year.  It  was 
pleasant  to  get  back  to  the  dear  old  place,  where  I  had 
spent  such  a  happy  childhood,  the  scene  too  of  so  many 
pi-ecious  interviews  with  your  beloved  father.  We  re- 
turned again  to  oar  former  life  of  quiet  ease,  enlivened  at 
IVeipicnt  intervals  by  the  visits  of  guests  from  abroad  and 
l>y  tliosc  of  friends  and  acquaintances  among  the  neigli- 
hiiring  nobiUty.  Though  I  received  no  tidings  fi'om  your 
filler,  a  secret  hope  still  sustained  mc.     A  few  times  only, 


88 


Mir.AMICIII. 


1 


diirin-  the  first  tlircc  year,  of  hh  ab.^enee,  dhl  I  lose  my 
chccrFulnesd.     Those  were,  when  .>^uuie  hjver  pressed  his 
.uit  and   I  knew  that  m  repelHng  it,  I  was  upsetting  su.u..    ^ 
dierishcd  scheme  of  my  unele.     But  I  will  do  hnn  the  jus-    ^ 
lice  to  say  that  he  bore  it  patieutly,  and,  (.nly  at  Ion-     . 
intervals,  oavc  vent  to  his  vexation  and  disappointment.  | 

It  wad  when  my  hope  concerninj,'  your  father's  retui'u 
beii-an  to  fail,  and  anxiety  respecting  his  fate  began  to  be 
indul-cd  in  its  stead,  tliat  my  spirits  gave  way.     At  the 
elose^of  the  fourth  year  of  his  absence,  my  peace  was 
wholly  gone  and  n:     lays  were  spent  in  the  restless  agony 
of  suspense.     IMy  health  was  rapidly  failing,  a-/, '  my  uncle 
who  knew  the  cause  of  my  prostration,  instead  of  consult- 
ing a  physician,  in  the  kindness  of  his  heart,  took  me  to 
Pm-is.     But  the  gayeties  to  which  I  was  there  introduced 
were  distasteful  to  me.     I  grew  every  moment  more  sad. 
Just  when  my  uncle  was  in  despair,  I  was    introduced 
accidentally  to  the  Countess  de  .Morny,  a  lovely  lady,  who 
had  lost  her  husl)and  and  three  cldldren,  and  had  passed 
through  much  sorrow. 

Gradually,  she  drew  n:c  to  her  heart  and  I  told  her  all 
my  grief.  She  dealt  very  tenderly  with  me,  my  Adele. 
She  '(lid  not  seek  to  cheer  me  by  inspiring  fresh  hopes  of 
your  father's  return.  No.  She  told  me,  I  might  never 
be  Claude  Dubois's  happy  bride,  but  that  I  might  be  the 
blessed  bride  of  Jesus.  In  short,  she  led  me  gently  uito 
the  consolations  of  our  Holy  Church.  Under  her  inthi- 
ence  and  guidance  I  came  into  a  state  of  sweet  resignation 
to  the  divine  will,— a  peaceful  rest  indeed,  after  the  ter- 


t 


\ 


I 


MIUA,AUCI1I. 


89 


t 


^0,  dill   I   I'l'^c  I'ly 
luvcr  pressed  liis     ) 
•as  tipscttiujj;  somo    v 
ill  do  him  the  jus-    ^ 
and,  only  ut  liiii;,'     , 
disappointment, 
nn-  father'a  retui'n 
fate  began  to  bo 
avc  way.     At  the 
ce,  my  peace  was 
the  re.«tles8  ugony 
iling,  a'.;'  my  unclc 
instead  of  eousuk- 
heart,  took  me  to 
as  there  introdnecd 
moment  more  fad. 
I  was    introduced 
a  lovely  lady,  who 
LMi,  and  had  passed 


* 


and  I  told  her  all 
•ith  me,  my  Adele. 
ring  fresh  hopes  of 
me,  I  might  never 
:hat  I  might  be  (he 


{ 


(lie    I 
into    } 


e  led  me  gently 
.  Under  her  inthi- 
of  sweet  resignation 
idccd,  after  the  tcr- 


-'i>le  alternations  of  nuspen-''  and  despair  I  had  sufTcred. 
'Alt,  my  Adule,  it  was  only  by  constant  prayers  to  tiio 
bi!  ■".'^d  Marie  that  my  soul  Avas  kept  from  lapsuig  into  its 
former  state  of  dreadful  unrest.  Ma  chv.rc  Adelo,  you 
know  not  what  you  do,  when  you  speak  slightingly  of  our 
Holy  Church.  I  should  then  have  died,  had  I  not  found 
rest  in  my  prayers  to  the  blessed  mother.  Now,  you  are 
young  and  gay,  bu*  ilio  world  is  full  of  sorrow.  It  may 
o\ertake  you  iis  ii  did  me.  Then  you  will  need  a  hope,  a 
c(jns()lati()n,  a  refuge.  There  is  no  peace  like  that  found 
at  the  foot  ot  !ic  cross,  hnploring  the  intercession  of  the 
compassionate,  Icving  M«/-/e.  Do  not  wander  away  from 
the  sweet  eyes  of  the  mother  of  Christ,  ma/dlc." 

Here  Mrs.  Dubois  ceased  speaking,  and  turned  a  tear- 
fij,  affectionate  gaze  upon  her  daughter.  Adelc's  eyes, 
that  had  been  fixed  upon  her  mother  with  earnest,  absorbed 
attention,  filled  witli  tears,  instantly. 

' '  Ma  cficrc  mere,  I  would  not  .uakc  you  unhappy.  I 
will  try  r'ot  to  give  you  pain.  Please  go  on  and  tell  mo 
all." 

"  Eh  !  bien  !  ma  there,  my  uncle  was  pleased  to  sec  me 
becoming  more  peaceful.  Finding  I  was  not  attracted  by 
the  pleasures  of  ihe  gay  city,  he  proposed  our  return  to 
the  chateau,  and  .rgged  the  Countess  de  IMorny  to  accom- 
pany us.     At  n. ,  urgent  request,  she  consented. 

On  the  day  of  our  an-ival,  the  Countess  weary  with  the 

journey,  having  g')ne  to  her  own  apartments,  I  went  to 

stroll  in  the  beautifid,  beloved  park.     It  was  June,  —  that 

month  so  fiUl  of  leaves,  flowers,  bu-ds,  and  balmy  summer 

8* 


90 


MinAMicni. 


wimls.  i  ■:"  at  the  foot  of  an  oM  l)cccli-trco,  loaniuj?  my 
head  against  its  hu-o  trnuk,  li.stcning  t..  the  tlow  of  tho 
rivor,  In.hil-in-  in  dan-L-rous  rcv.ri.'.  —  dan-.Tou.  oca- 
taiuly  to  jny  poacc  of  mind.  Suddenly,  1  wa«  dtartlod  hy 
the  sound  of  ibot.stq.s.  Before  I  cm.uUI  euilect  my  seal- 
tcred  senses,  your  father  stood  before  me.     '  Mane;  he 

eaid,  '  Marie' 

For  one  moment,  I  met  his  can  <t,  qnestionin-c  ga/c. 
and  then  rushed  into  his  open  arm  In  short,  lie  had 
come  haek  from  India,  not  a  rieh  man,  but  with  a  eom|M- 
tcnec,  and  when  he  fomul  I  had  not  forgotten  him,  but  iiad 
dung  to  him  still,  through  those  weary  years  of  absence, 
he  Resolved  to  see  the  Count  de  Kosillon  and  renew  tlie 
request  he  had  made  four  years  previous. 

My  unelo,  though  mueh  surprised  at  his  s-idtlen  api>ear- 
ancc,  received  him  politely,  if  not  cordially.     When  your 
father  had  hiid  before  lum  a  simple  statement  of  our  eaaef 
he  replied  frankly. 

'  I  am  convinced,'  he  said,  <  by  what  I  have  observed 
during  your  al)scnce,  M.  Dubois,  that  the  arrangement 
you  propose,  is  the  only  one,  which  will  secure  .Marie's 
happiness.  I  will  say,  however,  honestly,  that  it  is  tar 
enough  from  w  hat  I  designed  for  her.  But  the  manliness 
and  honorable  feeling  you  have  manifested  in  the  affair, 
make  me  more  willing  to  resign  her  to  you  than  I  should 
othervnse  have  been,  as  I  cannot  but  hope  that,  although 
deprived  of  the  advantages  of  wealth  and  station,  slu;  will 
yet  have  the  faithful  affection  of  a  true  and  noble  heart ! 
This  was  enough  for  us  both  and  more  than  we  'expected. 


i 

I 
I 

1 


tr 
fa 
ei 
J\ 


MlltAMIClIl. 


01 


trco,  K'aninjjj  my 
t  the  How  of  till" 
—  dan^'ci'ous  wr- 
I  \va.«  .ittirtlcd  by 
I  I'ollct't  my  scat- 
me.     '  Mark,'  he 

fHiostiuniii<r  }:^a/c, 
J 11  nhort,  he  had 
)iit  witli  a  eoiuiH'- 
ottcn  him,  hut  had 
'  years  of  ubsoiit^e, 
lU)n  and  renew  tlio 

lis  sudden  ap^icar- 
idly.  Wlien  your 
emont  of  our  easef 

it  I  have  observed 
it  the  arran,t,'eineut 
will  Hcciire  ^lavie'.-i 
)stly,  that  it  is  far 
But  the  manliness 
['csted  in  the  affair, 
)  you  than  I  should 
hope  that,  althoup-h 
and  station,  she  will 
lie  and  noble  heart ! 
than  we  'expected. 


1 


..  nut  a  n^  V  .llirieulty  arose.  Tpou  ..hservinji  tho 
troubled  and  u.uvrtain  state  of  allairs  in  Fnu.ee,  your 
iMther  beeamo  eonvineed  that  his  ehatiees  to  Hirure  the 
cuds  he  had  in  view,  would  be  -reater  in  the  new  world. 
After  a  brief  period  "I  deliberation,  he  fixed  upon  a  plan 
„r  ^r„i„jr  to  111  li  Vnicrion,  and  purelmsin^'  there  a 
l.„.J,  tnu-t  ol'  I  "-  founding  an  esti'te,  tjic  value  of 

whl-h  he  auti.  'd  iucrcusc  with  the  growth  of  the 

country. 

.,T„    tiiis    a  ,    the   Count   was    strenuously 

opposed.      There    wa.    a    |.retty  embowered   residence,  a 

short   distance    from    \U    chateau,  on  the    portion  of  tla* 

estate  I  had  iuhevite.l  from   my  father.     There  he  wishe.l 

i„  to  live.     In  slu.rt,  he  wished  to  retain   us   near   hini- 

.ilf.     lint  your  father,  with  tlie  enterprise  and  enthusiasm 

of  youth,  persisted  in  his  purpose.     At  hist,  my  imeh;  gave 

a  reluctant  consent  and  purchased  my  share  of  the  estate 

of  Kossillon. 

"  Not  to  my  surprise,  but  to  my  great  p-atification,  soon 
nfter  this,  the  gentle  Countess  de  Morny  consented  to 
become  the  Countess  de  Kuesillon. 

"  Surrounded  by  a  joyous  group  of  friends,  one  bright 
September  morning,  In  the  chapel  of  St.  Manr,  they  were 
married,  and  then  the  [.rlest  united  me  to  your  father.  The 
sweet  mother  looked  down  from  above  tlu;  altar  and  seemed 
to  give  us  a  .smiling  blessing.     We  were  very  happy,  my 

Adelc. 

In  a  few  days  wc  set  sail  for  New  Bnmswlck.  A^  e 
arrived  at  St.  John  in  October  and  there  spent  the  foUow- 


/)0 


MinAMinii. 


inji  wintor.  In  tlu>  Hpriii-j:,  yimr  tUthi'r  »>xi>l<»iv(l  thia  rc- 
frinii  and  iniulf  u  liW^'c  |.iircli!isf  .if  liuul  lioro.  At  that 
time  it  Mccmod  a  (lu.xiriil.K-  iuvcstnu-nt.  Hut  you  m;  how 
it  in,  my  A.Il-Ic.  Ail  Iuim  rcHiillrd  stranjrdy  (liiU'rotit  from 
wliat  wo  aiitifipatcd.  Ami  Homchow  it,  1ms  always  hccii 
(liHiciilt  to  (•lian;,'e  our  home.  From  time  to  Jimc,  we  liavo 
tliDU^lit   of  it,  —  obstacles  have  nriscu  ami  — we  are  still 

here." 

«'  Rut  where  is  the  Count  do  Kossillon,  mother?  It  is 
twenty  years,  is  it  not,  since  you  left  France?     Does  he 

,  yet  live  ?  " 

"J/*/  ma  chere,  wo  know  not.  After  our  di'parturn 
from  France  wo  received  freiiuenl  letters  from  him  and  tlio 
dear  Countess  until  five  years  since,  when  the  letters 
ceuscd.  They  constantly  iu-gi'<l  our  return  to  llossillon. 
You  remcmher  well  the  tiiousand  pretty  toys  and  gifts  they 
showered  upon  your  cliildhood?" 

"Ah  lyes,  mother,  I   remcmher.     And  you  have  not 
heard  a  word  from  them  for  five  years  ! " 
"Not  a  word." 

"  Do  you  Avish  to  go  hack  to  Franco,  mother?" 
"  It  is  the  only  wish  of  my  heart  that  is  unsatisfied.     I 
am  full  of  ceaseless  yearnings  for  the  beautiful  home  of  my 
youth.     Would  that  we  could  return  there.     But  it  may 
not  bo.     France  is  in  a  state  of  turmoil.     I  know  not  what 
fate  has  befallen  either  my  uncle,  or  hia  estate,     lie  may 
be  dead.     Or,  if  living,  he  may  no  longer  be  the  proprio 
tor  of  beautiful  Rossilhm.     Wc  cannot  learn  how  it  is." 
."  Cannot  my  father  go  to  France  and  ascertain  what  has 


I 


[ploiTil  tli'uH  rc- 
Ik'Iv.  At,  that 
lit  ytiu  Hcc  lu)\v 
y  (lini'ivut  f'nim 
iiH  alwayrt  bccti 
I)  Jlmc,  wo  liiivc 
1  —  ^vo  lUH!  still 

mother?  It  is 
ncc?     Does  ho 

•  our  (It'paftiii'f! 
1)111  hhii  and  the 
hen  the  letters 
n  to  llosKillon. 
ys  and  gilts  they 

1  you  havo  not 


I 


lothcr?" 
i  unsatisfied.     I 
tiful  home  of  my 
re.     But  it  may 
I  know  not  what 
estate,     lie  may 
!r  be  the  proprie 
am  how  it  is." 
BCertain  what  has 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


/. 


O 


I 


1.0 


III 


1.25 


f„^  IIM 

2.2 


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1.4 


1.8 


1.6 


% 


h 


V 


c^. 


cm 


^  %,  "r  ^'*' 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  MS80 

(716)  872-4503 


:v. 


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mira:miciit. 


93 


happened  there?  Perhaps,  mother,  he  might  find  a  homo 
for  you  once  more  in  your  dear  Picardy." 

"  He  is  thiukin<f  of  it  even  now,  mafdlc" 

"Is  he,  mother?  Then  be  comforted.  You  Avill  see 
that  sweet  home  once  more,  I  feel  assui'cd." 

She  rose  and  flung  her  arms  aroimd  ]\[r8.  Dubois,  ex- 
claiming, "  Dear,  beautiful  mother  I  " 

An  hour  later,  Adele  might  have  been  seen,  wandering 
ftbout  in  jMicah's  grove,  her  mind  and  heart  overflowing 
with  new,  strange  thoughts  and  emotions.  She  had  just 
received  the  first  full  revelation  pf  the  early  life  of  lier 
■nnronts.  Tier  1fnnwlpd(rr>  nf  \t  lioforp  Vinil  hpf«n  mere!'/ 
vague  and  confused.  Now  a  new  world  was  opened  for 
her  active  fancy  to  revel  in,  and  fi-esh  fountains  of  sympa- 
thy to  pour  forth,  for  tliose  whom  she  so  fondly  loved. 
She  sighed  as  she  recalled  that  3'earning,  wistful  look  upon 
her  mother's  face,  in  those  hours  when  her  thoughts  seemed 
far  away  from  the  present  scene,  and  grieved  that  her  gen- 
tle spirit  should  so  long  have  suffered  the  exile's  woe. 

For  weeks  after,  she  continually  fell  into  reverie.  In 
her  day  dreams  she  wandered  through  the  saloons  and  cor- 
ridors of  the  old  chateau,  where  her  mother  had  spent  so 
many  years,  chequered  with  sunshine  and  shade.  She  ram- 
bled over  the  park  and  cooled  her  fevered  head  and  hands 
in  the  water  that  dripped  from  the  tresses  of  the  marble 
Aphrodite.  Fancy  took  her  over  the  route  of  foreign 
travel,  her  mother  had  pursued  with  the  Count  dc  Rossil- 
lon.  She  longed  herself  to  visit  those  regions  of  clascsi 
and  romantic  interest.     During  the  long,  golden,  Septcra- 


i 


ii 


\ 


94 


MiiJA-Micnr. 


l)cr  afternoons,  slic  spent  lu)urs,  in  the  INIadonna  room, 
qucsti()nin,^f  her  niotlior  iincw  respecting  the  scenes  juid 
events  of  lier  past  life,  and  listening  eagerly  to  lier  replies. 
Tlie  young  examine  distant  objects  as  through  a  ])nsm. 
Adele's  imagination  invested  these  scenes  and  events  with 
rainbow  splendors  and  revelled  in  the  wealth  and  beauty, 
6he  had  herself  partially  created.  The  new  world  thus 
opened  to  her  Avas  infinitely  superior  to  ti.e  one  in  which 
she  held  her  commonplace,  humdiimi  existence,  ■^he 
never  wearied  of  her  mother's  reminiscences  of  the  past. 
Each  fresh  description,  each  recalled  item  of  that  history, 
added  to  the  extent  and  the  charms  of  her  new  world. 

IVfrS.    T)llbf)in    llOr.iolf  folf-    •->    /^n,^•^'nr>    r>P  .Or>or,.,„,,    :„    il T 

- .^.^    „    ...,^pi,_v^    t,,    px>jUOUH^   111    lllUB   IIV" 

ing  over  again  her  former  life  Avith  one,  who  entered  art- 
lessly and  enthusiastically  into  its  joys  and  soitows.  She 
also  experienced  an  infinite  relief  in  pouring  out  to  her 
sympathizing  child  the  regrets  and  L^iigmgs  which  had,  for* 
so  long  a  period,  been  closely  pent  in  her  own  breast. 
i\  [other  and  daughter  were  dr.awn  nearer  to  each  other  day 
by  day,  and  those  hours  of  sweet  comn  i  were  amono 

the  purest,  the  happiest  of  theii-  lives. 


Mr. 
condi 
ill  ev 
was  i 
and  ( 

said  . 
the  s 

"J 

been 
tlema 

]Mi 
made 
togi 

W 
turne 
seven 
that 
I  cam 


onna  room, 

.socnos  juul 

Iicr  rej)lit'.s. 

,^li  ti  ])nsm. 

events  with 

and  Ijoauty, 

world   tliiia 

le  in  which 

!uce.     -She 

f  the  past. 

lat  history, 

world. 
:„  ii !• 

Ill    lllUB   IIV- 

ntcrcd  art- 
•ows.  She 
out  to  her 
3h  had,  for 
wn  breast. 
1  other  day 
'^ere  amona 


CHAPTER  XI. 

MR.  BEOWN. 

Nearly  two  weeks  had  elapsed  since  the  night  when 
Mr.  Dubois  had  brought  Mr.  Brown,  in  a  sick  and  fainting 
condition,  into  his  house.  That  gentleman  had  lain  very 
ill  ever  since.  The  disonso  wos  tvnjinid  fever  ;  the  ')aticnt 
was  in  a  critical^statc;,  and  nothing  now  but  the  utmost  care 
and  quiet  coiUd  save  his  life. 

"  A\niat  du-ections  have  you  left  for  to-day.  Dr.  Wright?" 
said  Adele  to  the  physician,  as  he  came  one  morning  from 
the  sick-room. 

"Mrs.  McNab  has  the  programme,  "  he  replied. 

"  Will  you  please  repeat  it  to  mc,  sir?  ]\Irs.  McNab  has 
been  called  elsewhere,  and  avIU  not  have  charire  of  the  "cn- 
tleman  to-day. " 

Mrs.  Dubois  looked  at  Adele  with  some  surprise.  She 
made  no  remark,  however,  as  Dr.  Wright  immediately  began 
to  give  the  directions  for  his  patient  to  that  young  lady. 

"WHien  he  had  taken  leave  and  closed  the  door,  Adele 
turned  to  her  moiher  and  said,  "  I  have  suspected  for 
several  days  that  things  were  not  going  on  properly  in 
that  sick-room.  Last  night,  I  became  convmced  of  it. 
I  cannot  stop  to  tell  you  about  it  now,  mamma,  as  there 


iih 


I  !i  ' 


1  1  ,ilt 

•111 


i       ' 


9G 


BUUAMICHI. 


is  no  time  to  lose  with  our  invalid.  But  Mra.  jMcXub 
must  decamp.  I  have  it  all  arranged,  and  I  promise  you 
I  will  not  offend  Aunt  Patty,  Ijut  will  dismiss  her  peace- 
ably. Do  trust  her  to  me  once,  mamma.  Please  go 
now  and  tell  her  there  is  a  message  waiting  for  her  in  the 
dining-room.  Stay  with  ^Ir.  Brown  just  one  half  hour, 
and  you  shall  have  no  more  trouble  to-day." 

"  But,  ma  cherc,  you  have  no  patience  with  Aunt  Patty. 
I  am  afraid  you  will  be  too  abrupt  with  her." 

"Don't  fear,  mtunina,  I  promise  you  I  will  not  outrage 
Aunt  Patty.     Please  go." 

"Ah!  well !  I  will  go,"  said  Mrs.  Dubois. 

;Mrs.  jNIcNab  soon  made  her  appearance  in  tlie  dining- 
room,  and,  with  some  degTce  of  trepidation,  inquu-ed  who 
wanted  her  there. 

"  Micah  was  here  an  hour  ago,"  replied  Adelc;  <'and 
said  ]\[rs.  Campbell  sent  liini  here  to  ask  you  to  come  and 
help  her.  Four  of  her  children  are  sick  with  the  measles 
and  she  is  nearly  do;vu  herself,  in  consequence  of  fatigue 
and  watching.  I  did  not  speak  to  you  then,  as  I  supposed 
you  were  sleeping.  I  told  ^licah  I  had  no  doubt  you 
would  come,  as  there  are  enough  here  to  take  care  of  the 
sick  gentleman,  and  ]Mrs.  Campbell  needs  you  so  much." 

"  Wecl,  Mss  Ady,"  said  Mrs.  McNab,  twitching  vio- 
lently a  stray  lock  of  her  flaming  hair  and  tucking  it 
beneath  her  cap,  "Idiuna  ken  how  you  could  tak' upon 
yourself  to  send  su(;h  a  ward  as  that,  when  Mr.  Brown  is 
just  on  the  creesis  of  his  fever  and  not  one  of  ye  as  knows 
how  to  tak'  care  o'  him  m6re  than  a  nussin'  babe." 


beoflf 
about 
father 
the  di 
"'J 
I  've  ( 
hand  ' 

respor 
now  y 
^Irs.  I 
home 
"\^ 
I'm  80 
fever 
l»atty'i 

"  Mr. 
for  hii 
going 
Camp] 
to  assi 
watchi 
you. " 
convin 
length 
field  1( 
sons,  < 


MIUASIICIII. 


97 


■8.   jMc'Xab 

rouiisc  you 

her  pcacc- 

Plcase  go 

r  hei-  in  the 

half  hour, 

Lunt  Patty. 


aot  outrage 


tlie  dining- 
quu-ecl  who 

lelc;    "and 

0  coinc  and 
the  measlea 
a  of  fatigue 

I  supposed 
doubt  you 
cai'e  of  the 

1  80  much." 
itching  vio- 

tucking  it 
1  tak'  upon 
r.  Brown  is 
re  aa  knows 
e." 


"Ah!  indeed  1  Aunt  Patty,"  said  Adele,  pretending  to 
be  offended,  "do  you  say  that  my  mother  knows  nothing 
about  sickness,  when  you  are  aware  she  has  carried  my 
father  through  two  dangerous  fevers  and  me  through  all 
the  diseases  of  bab;  hood  and  childhood?" 

"That  raon  'ull  never  get  weel  if  I  leave  him  noo,  when 
I  've  the  run  of  the  niuddesons  and  directions.  A  strange 
hand  'ull  put  everything  wrang  and  he'll  dee,  that's  a'." 

"And  if  he  does  die,"  said  Adele,  "you  will  not  be 
responsible.  You  have  done  what  you  could  for  him  and 
now  you  are  called  away.  I  am  sure  you  will  not  permit 
IMrs.  Campbell  to  suffer,  when  she  gave  you  a  comfortable 
home  in  her  house  all  last  winter." 

"Weel,  Mrs.  Cawmmclls'  a  gude  woman  enough  and 
I'm  sorry  the  bairns  are  sick.  But  what's  the  measles  to  a 
fever  lik'^  this,  and  the  mon  nigh  dead  noo?"  Aunt 
Patty's  face  flushed  scarlet. 

"  Aunt  Patty,"  said  Adele,  very  slowly  and  decidedly, 
"  Mr.  Brown  is  my  father's  guest.  We  are  accountable 
for  his  treatment,  and  not  you.  My  mother  and  I  are 
going  to  take  charge  of  him  now.  I  sent  word  to  Mrs. 
Campbell  that  there  was  nothing  to  prevent  you  from  coming 
to  assist  her.  You  have  had  your  share  of  the  fatigue  and 
watching  with  our  invalid.  Now  we  are  going  to  relieve 
you. "  There  was  sonaethingin  Adele's  determined  air,  that 
convinced  Mrs.  McNab  the  time  for  her  to  yield  had  at 
length  come,  and  that  it  waa  of  no  use  for  her  to  contest  the 
field  longer.  Feeling  sure  of  this,  there  were  various  rea- 
sons, occurring  to  her  on  the  instant,  that  restrained  her 
9 


I- 


I 


r! 


',1 


li  '1^ 


"'i' 


h 

1  I 


i.i    t 


ti  I 


ri' 


Ml 


98 


MIRAMICUI. 


from  a  fm-tlior  expression  of  her  vexation.  After  u  few 
luomenta  of  eullen  silence,  she  rose  and  said  — 

"  Weel  1  I'll  go  and  put  my  things  tegitlicr,  that's  in 
Mr.  Brown'8  room,  and  tell  Mrs.  Doohyee  ahoot  the  mud- 
desons  and  so  on." 

"That  is  not  necessary," said  Adcle  ;  "The  Dr.  has  giv- 
en me  directions  about  the  medicines.  Here  is  breakfast  all 
ready  for  you,  Aunt  Patty.  Sit  down  and  cat  it,  while 
it  is  hot.  I  will  go  to  the  gentleman's  room  and  gather  up 
what  you  have  left  there.     Come,  sit  down  now." 

Adele  placed  a  pot  of  hot  coffee  and  a  plate  of  warm  rolls 
upon  the  table. 

Mrs.  McNab  stood  for  a  moment,  much  perplexed  be- 
tween her  impulse  to  go  back  to  Mr.  Brown's  room  and 
unburden  her  mind  to  Mrs.  Dubois,  and  the  desire  to  par- 
take immediately  of  the  tempting  array  upon  the  brcakfat^t- 
table.  Finally,  her  material  wants  gained  the  ascendency 
and  she  eat  down  very  composedly  to  a  discussion  of  the 
refreshments,  while  Adele,  anticipating  that  result,  hasten- 
ed up  stairs  to  collect  the  remaining  insignia  of  that  worthy 
woman's  departing  greatness. 

Mrs.  Dubois,  on  going  to  Mr.  Brown's  room,  had  found 
the  atmosphere  close  and  suffocating,  and  that  gentleman, 
tossing  restlessly  on  the  bed  from  side  to  side,  talking  to 
himself  in  a  wild  delii'ium.  She  left  the  door  ajar  and  be- 
gan bathing  liis  fevered  head  in  cool  Avater.  This  seemed 
to  soothe  him  greatly  and  he  sank  back  almost  immediately 
into  a  deathlike  slumber,  in  which  he  lay  when  Adele  en- 
tered the  chamber. 


t 


i 


C 

nboii 
cella 
ward 
ehou 
late  I 
U 
sat  d 

fortl 

(( ' 

Ady, 

times 
invali 

"J 
much 
relegi 
broke 

"I 
know 

"I 
I  hci 
pectin 
a  dan 

"^ 
Adele 
His  1 
trunj|i 

"'J 


MII^VMICIII. 


SO 


After  a  few 

her,  that's  in 
oot  the  imul- 

!  Dr.  has  giv- 
i  breakfast  all 
cat  it,  whUc 
Liid  gather  up 

l)W." 

of  warm  rolls 

perplexed  be- 
n's room  and 
desire  to  par- 
the  brcakfast- 
le  ascendency 
ussion  of  the 
esult,  hasten- 
»f  that  worthy 

im,  had  found 
it  gentleman, 
le,  talking  to 
ajar  and  be- 
This  seemed 
t  immediately 
len  Adele  en- 


t 


\ 


Cautioned  by  her  mother's  uplifted  finger,  she  moved 
about  noiselessly,  until  she  had  nuule  up  a  large  and  mis- 
cellaneous package  (jf  articles;  then  descended  quietly,  in- 
wardly resolvhig  that  the  "Nusa"  as  she  called  herself, 
should  not  for  several  weeks  at  least,  revisit  the  scene  of  her 
late  operations. 

Airs.  McNab  was  still  pursuing  her  breakfast,  and  Adele 
sat  down,  with  wliat  patience  she  could  command,  to  wait 
for  the  close. 

"You'll  be  wanting  some  ain  to  watch  to-night.  Miss 
Ady,"  said  Aunt  I'atty. 

"  Yes,  JMr.  Norton  will  do  that.  lie  liua  offered  many 
times  to  watch.  lie  will  be  very  kind  and  attentive  to  the 
invalid,  I  know." 

"  I  s'pose  he  '11  do  as  weel  as  he  knows  hoo,  but  I  ha  vena 
much  faith  in  a  mon  that  sings  profane  sangs  and  ca  'a  '  cm 
relcgious  heems,  to  a  people  that  need  the  bread  o'  life 
broken  to  'em."  "* 

"Have  you  heard  liim  sing,  Aunt  Patty?  I  did  not 
know  you  had  attended  his  meetings  at  the  grove." 

*'I  havena,  surely.  But  when  the  windows  were  up, 
I  heard  him  siugin'  them  jigs  and  reels,  and  I  ex- 
pectin'  every  miimt  to  see  the  men,  women,  and  bairns 
a  dancin'." 

"  Taey  sit  perfectly  still,  while  he  is  singing,"  said 
Adele,  "  and  listen  .as  intently  as  if  they  heard  an  angel. 
His  voice  is  sometimes  like  a  flute,  sometimes  like  a 
trumpet.     Did  you  hear  the  words  he  sang?" 

"  The  wards  I  yes  I  them 's  the  warst  of  a  !  "  said  Mi's. 


\\V 


I  'i 


Mi 
I''  1. 


I'M  I 


IM' 


100 


UIKAMICIII. 


McXab,  expanding  her  nostrils  with  a  snort  of  contempt. 
"They  bear  na  resemblance  whatever  to  the  Psalma  o' 
David.  I  should  na  soon  think  o'  singing  tlio  eangs  o' 
Robby  Bm'na  at  a  rclegious  service  as  them  bhvsphcmoua 
things." 

"Oh  1  Aunt  Patty,  you  nrc  wrong.  lie  sings  beautiful 
hymns,  and  he  tells  these  people  just  what  they  need.  I 
hope  they  will  listen  to  him  and  reform." 

"  Weel  he  'a  a  vei'y  light  way  o '  carryin  lumaelf)  for  a 
minister  o*  the  gospel,  I  must  say." 

*'Hc  is  cheerful,  to  be  sure,  and  sympathizes  with  the 
peojilc,  and  helps  them  in  their  daily  labor  Boiuetiiucs,  If 
that  is  what  you  refer  to.  I  am  sure  that  is  right,  and  I 
like  him  for  it,  "  said  Adele. 

♦'  Weel  1  I  see  he's  a'  in  a'  with  you,  noo,  "  said  Mrs. 
McNab,  at  last  rising  from  the  table.  *'  1 11  go  up  noo  and 
tak'  leave  o'  the  patient." 

"  No,  no,  "  said  Adele.  "He  is  sleeping.  He  must 
not  be  disturbed  on  any  account.  His  life  may  depend 
upon  this  slumber  remaining  unbroken." 

She  rose  involuntarily  and  placed  herself  against  the 
door  leading  to  the  stairs. 

Mrs.  McNab  grew  red  with  anger,  at  being  thus  foiled. 
Turning  aside  to  Ixide  her  vexation,  she  waddled  across 
the  room,  took  her  bonnet  and  shawl  from  a  jjeg  she  had 
appropriated  to  her  special  use,  and  proceeded  to  invest 
herself  for  he/  departure. 

""Weel  1  I  a'pose  ye '11  expect  me  to  come  when  ye 
Bend  for  me,"  said  she,  turning  round  in  the  doorway  with 


\ 


agi 

suiil 

<< 

hnpi 

by." 
«( 

i"g. 

A 

Bess 

niort 
cr. 
resig 
so. 


near 

and  1 

of  dc 

The] 

hush 

her 

hade 

but  f, 

struc 

d>-inj 

goinj 

death 

her  c 

fanci( 

OW8  ( 


MIRA3IICIII. 


101 


of  contempt. 

iic  Paalins  o' 

tlio  Bangs  o' 

bliisphcmoua 

inga  beautiful 
they  need.     I 

iiimself)  for  a, 

lizcs  with  the 

eOiuCtiiiiCH,  ir 

t  right,  and  I 

I,  "  said  Mrs. 
p  up  noo  and 

ig.     lie  must 
I  may  depend 


f  against  the 


I  thus  foiled, 
iddled  across 
.  jjeg  she  had 
led  to  invest 

me  when  ye 
ioorway  with 


\ 


\ 


a  grotesque  distortion  of  her  face  intended  for  an  ironical 
enjilc. 

«'  Tlmt  is  just  as  you  please,  Aunt  Patty.     Wo  shall  be 
hnppy  to  see  you  whonciver  you  choose  to  come.     Good- 

by.», 

"Good  by,"  said  Mrs.  McNab  in  a  quacking,  quaver- 
ing, half  resentful  tone,  as  she  closed  the  door  behind  her. 

Adele  went  immediately  to  the  adjouiing  pantry,  called 
Bess,  a  tidy  looking  mulatto,  gave  her  directions  for  the 
morning  work  and  then  went  up  stairs  to  relieve  her  moth- 
er. JMrs.  Dubois  made  signs  to  her  that  she  preferred  not  to 
resigii  her  poat.  DuL  Adele  silently  insisted  she  should  do 
so. 

After  her  mother  had  left  the  room,  she  placed  heftielf 
near  the  bedside  that  she  might  ob8er\e  the  countenance 
and  the  breathing  of  the  invalid.  His  face  was  pale  as  that 
of  death.  His  breath  came  and  w^t  almost  imperceptibly. 
The  physician  had  excluded  every  ray  of  sunshine  and  a 
hush,  like  that  of  the  grave,  reigned  in  the  apartment.  In 
her  intercourse  with  the  people  of  the  settlement,  Adele 
had  often  witnessed  extreme  illness  and  several  dying  scenes  ; 
but  she  had  never  before  felt  herself  so  oppressed  and  awe- 
struck as  now.  As  she  sat  there  nlone  with  the  apparently 
d^-ing  man,  she  felt  that  a  silent,  yot  mighty  struggle  was 
going  on  between  the  forces  of  life  and  death.  She  feared 
death  would  obtain  the  victory.  By  a  terrible  fiiscination, 
her  eyes  became  fixed  on  the  ghastly  face  over  which  she 
fancied  she  could  perceive,  more  and  more  distinctly,  shad- 
ows caflt  by  the  hand  of  the  destroyer.  Eveiy  moment  sh« 
9* 


I II 


,)  I 


I,  il 


I  •« 


i,'     i 


'  I  I  '  11 


1.' 

i-    •  I 
ii=   j  1 

ill 
|li   i 


lOS 


MlilAMICIII. 


thought  ofrccalUn'?  her  mother,  hut  I'eiiml  that  thcrtlightost 
jurriii;,'  movement  ofthoiitmoHphisro  might  wtoi)  ut  oiu'o  thiit 
feeble  rcf<i)iriition.  So  she  remiiiiied,  wiitchujg  terror  strick- 
en, waiting  tor  the  hiat,  ubsoluto  ^ilcnce,  — the  immovahlo 

ropoHe. 

Suddenly,  she  heard  a  limg,  deep-drawn  «igh.  Slie 
Baw  the  head  of  the  Hulferer  turn  gently  on  oiyj  Hide, 
pressing  the  pillow.  A  eolor  —  the  faintest  in  tiie  world, 
Btolo  over  the  features.  The  countenance  gradually  settled 
into  a  calm,  natural  expression.  The  respiration  heeaiuo 
8troi\ger  and  more  regular.  In  a  few  moments,  he  slept 
UH  Hollly  u»  a  llttlo  child. 

Adelc'a  heart  gave  one  bound,  and  then  for  a  moment 
Btood  still.  She  uttered  a  sigh  of  relief,  but  sank  back  in 
her  chair,  wearied  by  excess  of  emotion.  She  felt  instinc- 
tively, that  the  crisis  had  been  safely  passed,  that  there  was 
hope  for  the  invalid.    ^ 

Then,  for  a  long  timCj  her  mind  was  occupied  with 
thoughts  respecting  death  and  the  beyond. 

Suddenly  a  shadow,  flitting  across  the  curtained  win- 
dow, recalled  her  to  the  present  scene. 

Ah  I  what  a  mercy,  she  thought,  that  Aunt  Patty  did 
not  kill  hira,  before  I  discovered  her  beautiful  mode  of 
nursmg  sick  people.  No  wonder  he  has  been  crazed  all 
this  time,  with  those  strange  manoeuvres  of  hers  I 

On  the  previous,  night,  Adele  had  been  the  last  of  the 
family  to  retire.  Stealmg  noiselessly  past  the  door  of  the 
sick-room,  which  was  somewhat  ajar,  her  steps  were  ar- 
rested by  hearing  Aunt  Patty,  whose  voice  was  pitched  on 


I 


a  v( 
Ing 
sysl 
Tp, 
Pat) 
(low 
and 
mos 


Ii 

she  1 

(( 

enou 
M 
voice 
an  ai 
Scot 
sleep 
Tl 
a  mo 
a  spo 
little 
open< 
huge 
what 


,t  thortliglitost 

[)  Ut  OIK'C  tllllt 

;  tciTor  strick- 
le iminuviililo 


I     HlJ^ll. 


SIio 
on  oi\fi  Kitlo, 
in  tho  worM, 
uluiiUy  wcttlcd 
ration  Ijucuiuc 
lenta,  ho  slept 

tor  11  moment 
Blink  back  in 
le  felt  instinc- 
that  there  was 

occupied   with 

lurtaincd  win- 

.unt  Patty  did 
tiful  mode  of 
een  crazed  all 
Ejrs ! 

the  lost  of  the 
he  door  of  the 
steps  were  or- 
tras  pitched  on 


ii  HUM  Kill.  101 

a  very  hi^'Ii  key,  sinj^inj?  «omo  (»ld  Scotch  son;,'.  Think 
in^  this  rather  u  w(ran;,'c  method  of  (-ompoMiM;,'  the  ncrvoiw 
system  of  u  delirious  patient,  nhe  stood  and  listened. 
Up,  far  up,  into  the  loftiest  rojrions  of  sound,  went  Aunt 
Patty's  cracked  and  qnaverinj^  voice,  and  then  it  came 
down  with  a  heavy,  precipitous  full  into  a  htud  frmmblo 
and  tumble  below.  She  repeated  again  and  again,  in  u 
most  Iiilurious  tone,  the  worda  — 

"  Let  ufi  go,  lassjp,  go. 

To  tho  braoM  of  nalqulilthcr, 
Where  tho  blaeharries  uravr, 
'Alang  the  bonnie  Ilighlatul  heather." 

In  the  midst  of  this,  Adelc  heard  a  deep  groan.  Then 
ehc  heard  the  invalid  say  in  a  feeble,  deprecating  tone — 

••Ah  I  why  do  you  mock  mo?  Am  I  «ot  miserable 
enough?" 

Mrs.  McNab  stopped  a  moment,  then  replied  in  a  sharp 
voice,  '«  Mockin'  ye  !  indeed,  it  'a  na  such  thing.  If  yp  had 
an  atom  o'  moosic  in  ye,  ye  wad  ken  at  ance,  its  a  sweet 
Scotch  sa^ig  I'm  singin'  to  ye.  I  've  sung  mony  a  bairn  to 
sleep  wi'  it." 

There  waa  no  reply  to  this  remark.  All  was  quiet  for 
a  moment,  when  Adele,  fancying  she  heard  the  clinking  of 
a  spoon  against  the  side  of  a  tumbler,  leaned  forward  a 
little  and  looked  through  the  aperture  made  by  the  partially 
opened  door.  The  nurse  was  sitting  by  the  fire,  in  her 
huge  headgear,  wrapped  in  a  shawl  and  carefully  stirring, 
what  seemed,  by  the  odor  exhaled,  to  be  whiskey.     Her 


i:  I 


■!| 


t 

i  lil  '1     I 

1  ;:;i  II    i 

'iil!: 


ill 

11! 


Hr 


i  iii' 


104 


MIRAMICUI. 


face  was  very  red  and  her  cyca  wide  open,  staring  at  tho 
coals. 

The  sufferer  uttered   some  words,  which  Adele  could 
not  distinguish,  in  an  excited  voice. 

"  I  tell  ye,  there  isna  ony  hope  for  ye,"  said  Mrs.  Mc- 
Niib,  who,  for  some  reason,  not  apparent,  seemed  to  he 
i  greatly  irritated  by  whatever  remarks  her  patient  made. 

' '  There  isna  ony  liope  for  thum  that  hasna  been  elect- 
ed.    Ye  might  talk  an'  pray  a'  yer  life  and  'twould  do  ye 
/  na  gude.     I  diuna  ken  where  you  've  been  a'  yer  life,  not  to 

ken  that  afore.  With  a'  yer  furbelowed  claithes  and  jew- 
elled watch  and  trinkets,  ye  dinna  ken  much  aboot  the 
gospel.  And  then  this  new  preacher  a'  tellin'  the  people 
they  can  be  saved  ony  minut  they  choose  to  gie  up  their 
hearts  to  the  Lord  !  Its  a'  tegithcr  false.  I  was  ti'ught  in 
the  Kirk  o'  Scotland,  that  a  mon  might  pray  and  pray  a' 
his  days,  and  then  he  wadna  be  sure  o'  bcin'  saved. 
That 's  the  blessed  doctrine  I  was  taught.  If  ye  are  to  be 
saved,  ye  will  be.  There  noo,  go  to  sleep.  Ill  read  the 
ward  o'  God  to  ye." 

Alas !  for  the  venerable  church  of  old  Scotia,  had  she 
many  such  exponents  of  her  doctrine  as  Mrs.  McNab. 

Having  thus  relieved  her  mind,  the  nurse  swallowed  the 
contents  of  tlie  tumbler.  She  then  rose,  drew  a  chair 
toAvards  a  table,  on  which  stood  a  shaded  lamp  and  took 
from  thence  a  Bible  ;  but  finding  her  eyesight  rather  dim, 
withdrew  to  a  cot  in  one  corner  of  the  room,  threw  herself 
down  and  was  soon  sleeping,  and  snoring  prodigiously. 
i  •        Adele,  who  hjid,  during  the  enactment  of  this  scene, 


k 


I 


0 

f 

t] 


s< 
e« 
si 
^ 
di 
vi 
m 

Wi 

tej 
pa 

ati 

A< 
sle 
toe 
wh 

lea 


MIRA3IICIU. 


105 


Staring  at  tho 


I  Aclele  could         [ 


said  Mrs.  Mc- 
seemcd  to  be 
,ticnt  made. 
;na  been  elect- 
.  'twould  do  ye 
'yerlife,  not  to 
lithes  and  jcw- 
uich  aboot  the 
;lliu'  the  people 
0  gie  up  their 
[  was  ti'ught  in 
ray  and  pray  a' 
y  beiu'  saved. 
If  ye  are  to  be 
.     Ill  read  the 

Scotia,  had  she 
s.  McNab. 
3  swallowed  the 
drew  a  chair 
lamp  and  took 
ght  rather  dim, 
1,  threw  herself 
rodigiously. 
t  of  this  scene, 


been  prevented  from  rushing  in  and  deposing  Mrs.  McNab 
at  once,  only  by  a  fear  of  exciting  the  patient  to  a  degree 
of  frenzy,  stole  in  quietly,  bathed  his  liead  with  some  per- 
fumed water,  smoothed  his  pillow  and  seated  herself,  near 
the  fire,  where  she  remained  until  morning. 

Mr.  Brown  slept  only  during  the  briefest  intervals  and 
was  turning  restlessly  and  talking  incoherently  all  night. 
Soon  after  day  dawn.  Aunt  Patty  began  to  bestir  her- 
self, but  before  she  had  observed  her  presence,  Adelc  had 
escaped  to  her  own  room.     Soon,  hearing  Micah's  voice, 
she  went  to  the  kitchen.     She  found  his  message  from 
Mrs.  Campbell,  just  the  excuse  she  needed  to  enable  her  to 
dispose  of  Mxi.  McNab.     She    had    become   quite  con- 
vinced that  whatever  good  qualities   that  worthy  woman 
might  possess  as  a  nurse,  her  unfortunate  proclivities  to- 
wards the  whiskey  bottle,  united  with  her  rigid  theological 
tenets,  rendered  it  rather  unsafe  to  trust  her  longer  wkh  a 
patient,  whose  case  required  the  most  delicate  care  and 
attention. 

The  queer,  old  clock  in  the  dining-room  struck  one. 
Adele  heard  it.  She  was  still  watching.  Mr.  Brown  still 
slept  that  quiet  sleep.  Just  then,  Mrs.  Dubois  entered, 
took  her  daughter's  hand,  led  her  to  the  door,  and 
whispered  — 

"  Now,  take  some  food  and  go  to  rest.  I  will  not 
leave  him."    Adele  obeyed. 


■I      ' 


:^i  I 


■iil  i 

m  \ 

■ill;    I 


,ij 


!1 


I 


I  ' 


! ; 


fiNi 


'I  In 


CHAPTER  XIL 


A  CASE   OF  CONSCIENCE. 


Mn.  Broavn  remained  in  a  peaceful  slumber  during  the 
afternoon.  Mrs.  Dubois  aroused  him  occasionally,  in  order 
to  moisten  liis  parched  lips,  and  with  her  husband's  aid  and 
]\Ir.  Norton's  to  change  his  position  in  the  bed.  At  such 
times  he  opened  his  eyes,  gazed  at  them  inquiringly,  feebly 
assented  to  their  arrangements,  then  sank  away  into  sleep 

again. 

The  members  of  the  family  felt  a  peculiar  interest  in 
the  stranger.  ISIr.  Dubois  had  described  him,  as  a  man 
of  intelligence,  refined  and  elegant  in  his  deportment  and 
tastes.  He  had  noticed  in  him,  an  an:  of  melancholy, 
which  even  ludicrous  events  on  the  journey  had  dissi- 
pated, but  for  the  moment.  The  wild  words  he  had 
uttered  on  the  night  of  his  arrival,  revealed  some  deep  dis- 
quiet of  mind.  Away  from  home,  hovering  between  life 
and  death,  and  thrown  on  the  tender  mercies  of  strangers, 
Mrs.  Dubois  was  filled  with  compassion  and  solicitude  in 

his  behalf. 

Having  confidence  in  INIrs.  McNab's  skill  as  a  nurse, 
she  had  not  suspected  that  her  partiality  for  a  hot  dose  at 


MinAMICUYv 


107 


aer  during  the 
nally,  in  order 
band's  aid  and 
)cd.  At  such 
iringly,  feebly 
way  into  sleep 

iar  interest  m 
lini,  as  a  man 
sportment  and 
if  melancholy, 
ney  had  dissi- 
ivords  he  had 
some  deep  dis- 
g  between  life 
:s  of  strangers, 
id  solicitude  in 

ill  as  a  nurse, 
)r  a  hot  dose  at 


night,  would  interfere  with  her  faithfulness  to  hei  charge. 
Nut  having  conununicated  with  Adele,  she  did  not  yet 
know  why  it  had  been  deemed  important  to  dispose  of  her 
so  summarDy,  and  she  secretly  wondered  how  it  had  been 
accomplished  witli  so  little  ado.  When  informed,  she  ap- 
proved  Adele's  decisive  action. 

Mr.  Norton  had  fully  shared    the  "interest  felt  by   the 
family  in  the  sti-anger,  and  was  happy  to  relieve  :Mrs.  Du- 
bois in  the  evening  and  to  remain  by  his  bedside  during  tljc 
night.     Sinoe  liis  first  interview  with  .Air.  Brown,  on  the 
day  of  liis  arrival,  he  had  felt  that,  in  accordance  witli  the 
vows  by  which  he  had  bound  himself  to  the  great  Master, 
the  unfoxtunate  stranger  had  a  claim  on  liim,  which  he  re- 
solved to  fulfil  at  the  earliest  moment  possible.     He  hud 
liad  no  opportunity  as  yet,  of  executing  his  purpose,    Mrs. 
JNIcXab  having  guarded  the  door  of  the  sick-room  like  a 
lioness  watching  her  cubs.     AYhen  she  had  by  chance  per- 
mitted him  to  enter,  he  hiid  found  her  patient  wandering 
in  mind  and  entirely  incapable  of  coherent  conversation.  ° 
Meantime,  he  had  prayed  earnestly  for  his  recovery  and 
secretly  felicitated  himself  with  the  hope  of  leading  liim  to 
aTock  of  refuge,— a  tower  of  defence,  wliich  vvouTd  secure 
him  from  sin  and  sorrow. 

Mr.  Brown  contmued  to  sleep  so  peacefully  during  the 
night,  that  Mr.  Norton,  whose  hopes  for  his  recovery  had 
been  increasing  every  hour,  was  not  surprised  at  the  dawn 
of  day  to  perceive  his  eyes  open,  examining  the  objects  in 
the  room,  with  the  au- of  a  person  just  awakened  from  a 
bewildering  dream. 


,  I 


''v  'V 


108 


MXRAMIOHT. 


Ill 


"  He  gar^  curiousljc  at  lire  heavy,  carved  bureau  of  dark 
•wood,  at  the  grotesque  little  tabic,  covered  with  vials  and 
cu'ps,  at  the  cabinet  filled  with  specimens  of  foreign  skill 
and  art,  at  the  Venetian  carpet  and  at  last,  hia  eyes  re- 
mained fixed  upon  a  black  crucifix,  placed  in  the  centre  of 
the  mantle.     He  uttered  a  deep  sigh. 

Mr.  Norton,  convinced  that  he  had  fully  collected  his 
scattered  thoughts  and  become  aware  of  the  realities  of  his 
situation,  stepped  gently  forward  from  liis  station  beliind 
the  bed  and  taking  Mr.  Brown's  hand,  said,  in  a  cheerful 
tone,  "  How  do  you  find  yourself,  my  dear  sir  ?  " 
After  a  momentary  surprise,  Mr.  Brown  replied  — 
"  Better,  I  think,  sir,  better." 

"Yes  sir.     You  «re  better.     I  thank  God  for  it.     And 
also  for  this  hospitable  roof  and  the  kind  care  these  people 
have  taken  of  you  in  your  illness.     The  Lord's  angel  must 
have  guided  your  steps  to  this  house,  and  mine  also." 
♦«  This  house,  sir  !  whose  is  it?  " 
"  It  belongs  to  Mr.  Dubois." 

"Ahl  I  recollect.     I  came  here  with  him  and  have 
been  ill  several  days.     And  the  country  is  —  " 

"  Miramichi,"  said  Mr.  Norton.     "  A  desperate  region 
sir.     A  land  where  the  darkness  may  he  felt." 

Just  then  a  ray  of  red,  burning  sunshine  shot  into  the 
room.     The  good  man  modified  his  remark,  exclaiming, 
-•       "  Morally,  sir,  morally." 

Observing  a  cloud  of  anxiety  stealing  over  Mr.  Brown's 
face,  he  went  on. 

"Now,   my  dear  sir,  let  me  tell  you — you  have  been 


1 


t 


i 


i 


vc: 
ov 
at( 

yc 

to- 
of 
\V 
to 

ly 

tn 
po 


de 
an 
inl 
no 
fa 
bj 

mi 
inj 

Ii 

re 
fai 


MiKx^noni. 


109 


)ureau  of  dark 
with  vials  and 
f  foreign  skill 
,  hia  eyes  re- 
1  the  centre  of 

'  collected  his 
realities  of  his 
station  beliind 

in  a  cheerful 

sir?" 
replied  — 

i  for  it.  And 
e  these  people 
d's  angel  must 
ne  also." 


him  and  have 

_  » 

esperate  region 

3  shot  into  the 
rk,  exclaiming, 

ir  Mr.  Brown's 

you  have  been 


I 


< 


very  ill  for  two  weeks.  The  danger  in  your  case  is  now 
over,  but  you  are  cxtrcmoly  weak,  and  need,  for  a  time,  the 
attention  of  the  two  lovely  nurses,  who  watched  over  you 
yesterday  and  arc  ready  to  bestow  land  care  upon  you  again 
to-day.  You  must  lay  aside,  for  the  present,  all  troubles 
of  mind  and  estate,  and  devote  yourself  to  getting  well. 
When  you  are  somewhat  stronger,  I  have  excellent  things 
to  tell  you." 

"Excellent  things!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Brown,  excited- 
ly,—  a  flush  overspreading  his  wan  features.  "Has  the 
traitor  been  found  ?  "  Then  with  a  profound  sigh  of  disap- 
pointment, he  uttered  feebly  — 

"  Ah  I  you  do  not  know." 

"I  do  not  know  what  your  particular  trouble  is,  my 
dear  sir,  but  I  know  of  a  way  to  relieve  you  of  that,  or 
any  other  burden  that  weiglis  on  your  spirits.  I  Avill 
inform  you  when  you  get  stronger.  What  you  need 
now,  is  a  cup  of  oatmeal  gruel,  mingled  with  a  tea-spoon- 
ful of  wine,  which  shall  immediately  be  presented  to  you 
by  the  youthful  queen  of  this  mansion." 

He  turned  to  go  and  caH  Adele.  But  IVIr.  Brown 
motioned  him  to  remain. 

♦'  Do  you  reside  here,  sir?"  he  asked,  in  accents  indicat- 
ing great  prostration  and  despondency. 

"  No,  sir.     I  arrived  here  only  a  few  hours  before  your 

I  am  from  the  State  of .     You  are  also  from  that 

region,  and  I  shall  not  leave  you  until  I  see  you  with  your 
face  set  towards  your  native  soil.     Now,  my  dear  sir,  be 
quiet.    Perhaps  yoiur  life  depends  on  it."     ---   -  - 
10 


jij!  i 


I       I 
i'      I 


I  ' 


110 


Min.vMicrri. 


.!  1 


ii! 


% 


«'  ]\Iy  llfo  is  not  worth  a  penny  to  anybody." 

"It  Id  wortli  ten  thouriiuul  pounds  and  mure  to  your 
friends.     Bo  qniet,  I  say." 

And  ^Ir.  Norton  went  out  of  the  room,  gently  but  deci- 
sively. i\Ir.  Brown's  eyes  followed  liiui  as  he  closed  the 
door. 

Already  he  felt  the  magnetic  power  of  that  good  and 
sympathizing  heart,  of  that  honest,  upright  soul,  whioli 
in.s])irod  by  heavenly  love  and  zeal,  cast  rays  of  life  and 
happiness  wherever  it  moved. 

Moreover,  he  was  too  nuich  prostrated  in  mind  and  body, 
vigorously  to  grasp  the  circumstances  of  his  situation, 
whatever  they  might  be.  Pain  and  debility  had  dulled  his 
faculties  and  the  sharpness  of  his  sorrow  also.  The  good 
missionary's  cheery  voice  and  heartfelt  smile  soothed,  for 
the  time,  hi^  wounded  spirit.  It  was  as  if  he  had  taken  a 
sip  of  Lethe  and  had  come  into  the  land  in  which  it  always 
seemcth  attornoon. 

Soon  Adelc  opened  the  door  and  approaching  the  table 
gently,  placed  upon  it  the  gruel.  When  she  turned  her 
eyes  full  of  sympathy  and  kindness  upon  him  and  inquired 
for  his  health,  he  started  with  a  remembrance  that  gave 
him  both  pain  and  pleasure.  She  reminded  him  strangely 
of  the  being  he  loved  more  than  any  other  on  earth  —  his 
sister.     He  answered  her  question  confusedly. 

She  then  raised  liis  head  upon  "the  pillow  with  one  hand 
and  presented  the  cup  to  his  Ups  with  the  other.  He  drank 
its  contents,  mechanically. 

Adele  proceeded  noiselessly  to  arrange  the  somewhat  dis- 


i 


ortl 
bei 
her 
brc 
ing 
ful 
wh 
ugl 
old 
bin 

] 
hea 
roo 
ass: 
buc 
bin 
lib) 

1 
of 
tlei 
hat 
tur 
edf 
sin 
a  s 
the 

] 

ma 
he£ 


MIRAMlCIir. 


Ill 


Mly." 

Ill  mi)rc  to  your     | 


gently  but  ilcci- 
xs  he  closed  the 


{■  that  good  and 
irht  soul,  which 
rays  of  life  and 

1  mind  and  body, 
)f  his  situation, 
ty  had  dulled  his 
also.  The  good 
nilc  soothed,  for 
f  he  had  taken  a 
1  which  it  always 

oaching  the  table 
1  she  turned  her 
him  and  inquired 
brance  that  gave 
cd  him  strangely 
er  on  earth  —  Iiis 
dly. 

>w  with  one  hand 
>ther.    He  drank 

the  somewhat  dis- 


ordered room,  and  after  placing  a  screen  between  it  and  the 
bed,  raised  a  Avindow,  through  which  the  warm  Septem- 
ber atmosphere  wandeicd  in,  indolently  bathing  his  weary 
brow.  As  he  felt  its  soft  undulations  on  his  face,  and  look- 
ing around  the  pleasant  apartment  observed  the  grace- 
ful motions  of  his  youthful  nurse,  the  scenes  through 
which  he  had  recently  passed,  appeared  like  thoso  of  an 
ugly  nightmare,  and  floated  away  from  his  memory.  The 
old  flow  of  his  life  seemed  to  come  back  again  and  he  gave 
hinxself  up  to  pleasant  dreams. 

Mr*  Brown  continued  thenceforward  to  improve  in 
health,  though  slowly.  ^Nlr.  Norton  slept  on  a  cot  in  his 
room  every  night  and  spent  a  part  of  every  day  with  him, 
assisting  in  his  toilet,  conversing  with  him  of  the  affairs, 
business  and  political,  of  their  native  State,  and  reading  to 
him  occasionally  from  books  furnished  by  INIr.  Dubois's 
library. 

He  informed  ^Ir.  Brown  of  his  mission  to  this  wild  region 
of  Miramichi,  and  the  motives  that  induced  it.  That  gen- 
tleman admired  the  purity  and  singleness  of  purpose  which 
had  led  this  man,  unfavored  indeed  by  a  careful  classical  cul- 
ture, but  possessing  many  gifts  and  much  practical  knowl- 
edge, thus  to  sacrifice  himself  in  this  abyss  of  ignoi-ance  and 
sin.  He  was  drawn  to  him  daily  by  the  magnetism  which 
a  strong,  yet  heroic  and  genial  soid  always  exercises  upon 
those  who  approach  it. 

In  a  few  days  he  had,  without  any  effort  of  the  good 
man  and  involuntarily  on  his  own  part,  confided  to  hun  tho 
heavy  weight  that  troubled  his  conscience. 


■I ", 


111   I 


\'  ' 


ill 

;il 

'  'If  ^  i  ' 

'':  I . 

,  I  .;  . 

V  ^  'i 

\h  pit 

Pi  III 


112 


MIK.UIICIII. 


♦'  Ah  !"  said  Mr.  Norton,  his  eyes  full  of  profound  sor- 
row, and  probing  tlio  wound  now  laid  open  to  the  quick, 
"  it  was  a  terrible  weakness  to  have  yielded  thus  to  the 
wiles  of  that  artful  foreigner.  IMay  Heaven  foi-give 
youl" 

Surprised  and  shocked  at  this  reception  of  his  confession, 
Mr.  Brown,  who  had  hoped  for  consolation  or  counsel 
from  his  sympathizing  companion,  felt  cut  to  the  heart. 
Ilis  countenance  settled  into  an  expression  of  utter  de- 
spair. 

' '  ^Miy  have  you  sought  so  dilir  ently  to  restore  me  to 
health,  —  to  a  disgraced  and  mis;rable  existence?  You 
must  have  known,  from  the  delu'oiis  words  of  my  illness, 
of  which  you  have  told  me,  that  life  would  be  a  worthless 
tiling  to  me.  You  should  have  permitted  me  the  privilege 
of  death,"  said  he  bitterly. 

"  The  privilege  of  death  !"  said  Mr.  Norton.  "Don't 
you  know,  my  dear  sir,  that  a  man  unprepared  to  live,  is  also 
unprepared  to  die  ?  Every  effort  I  have  put  forth  during 
your  illness  has  been  for  the  purpose  of  saving  you  for  a 
happy  life  here,  and  for  a  blissful  immortaUty." 

"A  happy  life  here  !  For  me,  who  have  deeply  offended 
and  disgraced  my  friends  and  my  pure  and  unstained 
ancestry  I " 

"  It  is  true,  in  an  hour  of  weakness  and  in-esolution, 
you  have  sinned  against  your  friends.     But  you  have  sin- 
ned all    your  life  against  a   Being  infinitely  higher  that 
earthly  friends.     Your  conduct  has  disturbed  family  pride 
and  honor,  and  thereby  destroyed  your  peace.     But,  do 


a 
II 

ol 
tl 


P' 
w 

tl 

Vi 

88 

ir 
ti 
ir 


ai 
ai 
re 
T 
ei 
di 
h 

6' 


MIKXAUCIU. 


113 


of  profound  sor- 
m  to  the  quick, 
led  thus  to  tho 
Ilcavcu   forgive 

f  his  confession, 
itiou  or  counsel 
it  to  the  heart, 
on  of  utter  dc- 

o  restore  me  to 
ixistcnce  ?  You 
8  of  my  illness, 
d  be  a  worthless 
me  the  privilege 

orton.  "Don't 
cd  to  live,  is  also 
put  forth  during 
saving  you  for  a 
ity." 

deeply  offended 
and  unstained 

md  in-esolution, 
it  you  have  sin- 
tely  higher  that 
bed  family  pride 
)eace.    But,  do 


you  never  think  of  your  transgressions  against  God  ?  For 
a  world,  I  would  not  have  had  you  present  yourself  heforo 
llis  just  trll)un;il,  with  your  sins  against  Iliui  unrepcuted 
of.  Is  there  ni>  other  thought  in  your  heart,  than  to  escape 
the  misery  of  the  jjrescnt?" 

i\Ir.  Brown  was  silent.     Mr.  Norton  continued. 

*'It  is  utter  weakness  and  cowardice,  in  order  to  escape 
present  discomfort  and  Avretchedness,  to  rush  from  this 
world  into  another,  without  knowing  what  we  arc  to  meet 
there." 

A  flush  of  resentment  at  these  words  covered  the  in- 
valid's face.  Ju.nc  then  Adelc  knocked  on  the  door,  and 
said  a  poor  woman  below  wished  to  sec  ]Mr.  Norton. 

He  rose  instantly,  weijt  towards  Mr.  Brown,  and  tak- 
ing his  thin  hand  between  his  own  and  pressing  it  affec- 
tionately, said,  "Look  back  upon  your  past  life,  —  look 
into  your  heart.  Believe  mc,  my  dear  sir,  I  am  your 
friend. " 

Then  he  went  to  obey  the  summons,  and  Mr.  Brown 
vas  left  alone. 

The  emotion  of  anger  towaiils  his  benefactor  soon  passed 
away.  lie  had  been  trained  early  in  life  to  religious  truth, 
and  he  knew  that  Mr.  Norton  presented  to  him  the  stern 
rcfpiisitions  of  that  truth,  only  in  friendlmess  and  love. 
The  good  man  was  absent  several  hours,  and  the  time  was 
employed,  as  well  as  the  solitude  of  several  subsequent 
days,  by  Mr.  Brown,  in  looking  into  his  heart  and  into 
his  past  life.  He  found  there  many  things  he  had  not 
even  suspected.  He  saw  clearly,  that  he  had  hitherto  held 
10* 


n  I 


ti.       i 


•ij  I  i. 


'■'■  J''i''   i 


114 


MIRAMICIII. 


himself  ninonrtMo  only  to  tlio  ju(l;L,nnont  of  the  world.  Its 
wtiiiidanl  of  propriety,  tiistc,  honor,  had  been  hia.  lie  hiul 
not  looked  higher. 

Hid  friend  Mr.  Norton,  on  the  contrary,  held  himself 
accountable  to  God's  tribunal.  His  whole  conversation,  j 
conduct,  and  ypirit,  nhowed  the  ennol)linf^  etl'eet  whieh  that  k 
sublime  test  of  character  had  upon  him.  In  fine,  lie  per- 
ceived that  tlie  ba-sis  of  his  own  character  had  been  false 
and  tlierefore  frail.  The  sui)crstvucturc  he  had  raised 
upon  it,  had  been  fair  and  imposing  to  the  world,  but, 
when  it8  strength  came  to  be  tried,  it  hatl  given  way  and 
fallen.  He  felt  that  he  had  neglected  his  true  interests, 
and  had  been  wholly  indifferent  to  the  just  claims  of  the 
only  Being,  who  could  have  sustained  him  in  the  horn- of 
temi)tation.  He  saw  his  past  errors,  he  moaned  over 
them,  but  alas  !  he  considered  it  too  late  to  rei)air  them. 
His  life,  he  believed  to  be  irretrievabl\  lost,  and  he 
Avished  only  to  commit  himself  to  the  mercy  of  God,  and 
die. 

For  a  few  days,  he  remained  reserved  and  sunk  in  a 
deep  melancholy. 

At  length,  Mr.  Norton  said  to  hira,  "  I  trust  you  are  not 
offended  with  me,  my  dear  sir,  for  those  plain  words  I  ad-        |l 
dressed  to  you  the  other  day.     Be  assured  that  though 
stern,  they  were  dictated  by  my  friendship  for  you  and  my 
duty  towards  God." 

"  Offended  1    ray   good    friend.      O    no.     What  you 
said,  is  true.     But  it  is   too   late   for  me  to   know   it.       ^ 
Through  the  merits  of  Christ,  I  hope  for  the  pardon  of  my 


lil 

is 

I 

do 

rei 
mi 
tri 

CO! 

the 

sill 

wl 

in 

wi 

rcf 

cai 

hei 

Br 

die 
th( 
thi 
the 


i  i 


ho  world.     Tt^^ 
1  liiti.     He  luul 

,  held  himself 
0  convcrsiitii)ii, 
Feet  wiiii'h  that 
n  fine,  lie  per- 
luul  heen  false 
he  had  raised 
he  world,  but, 
given  way  and 
i  true  interests, 
t  claims  of  the 
in  the  hour  of 
moaned  over 
0  repair  them, 
lost,  and  he 
3y  of  God,  and 

and  sunk  in  a 

'ust  you  are  not 
ain  words  I  ad- 
3d  that  though 
for  you  and  my 

10.  What  you 
e  to  know  it. 
16  pardon  of  my 


RIinAJlICIII. 


115 


/ 


sins.  I  am  willing  to  live  and  sulfcr,  if  it  is  His  heliest. 
But  you  perceive  my  power  to  act  for  the  cause  (if  tnitli 
is  gone.  My  past  has  taken  away  all  good  InHuence  from 
my  future  course.  Who  will  accept  my  testimimy  now? 
I  have  probably  lost  easte  in  my  own  circle,  and  have, 
doul)tIcsH,  lost  my  power  to  influence  it,  even  should  I  bo 
received  back  to  its  ties.  In  society,  I  am  a  disjionorcd 
man.  I  (^annot  have  the  happiness  of  working  for  tho 
truth,  — for  Christ.     IVIy  power  is  destroyed." 

"You  arc  wrong,  entirely  wrong,  my  dear  sir.  Ilavo 
courage.  Shall  not  that  man  walk  erect  and  joyous  before 
the  whole  world,  whatever  his  past  may  have  been,  whoso 
sins  have  been  washed  away  in  tho  blood  of  Christ  and 
wliose  soul  is  inspired  by  a  determination  to  abide  by  faith 
in  Ilim  forever?  I  say,  yes.  Do  the  work  of  (Jod.  IIo 
will  take  care  of  you.  Live,  with  your  eye  fixed  on  Ilim, 
ready  to  obey  Ilis  will,  seeking  His  heavenly  aid,  and  you 
can  face  the  frowns  of  men,  while  serene  peace  fills  your 
heart." 

Thus  cheered  and  strengtheneil  from  day  to  day,  Mr. 
Brown  gained  gradually  in  health  and  hope.  Especially 
did  ^Ir.  Norton  strive  to  invigorate  his  fiiith.  He  justly 
thought,  it  was  only  a  strong  grasp  on  eternal  realities, 
that  could  supply  the  place  of  those  granite  qualities  of 
the  soul,  so  la;king  in  this  lovable,  fascinating  young 
man. 


11!    t 


i  i'' 


'  51 


H'i 


CTTAPTEIl    XIIT. 

Tin:   OUOVK. 

Iv  tho  moiinwhilo,  three  or  f..nr  tiraoH  <l.irin-,'  the  work, 
Mr.  Nort..n  contiimed  to  hold  uicctmgs  for  the  people  i.» 
INIirah'rt  ( J  rove. 

Th.Mc  had  hoon  hilt  httlo  rain  in  the  Mira-nichi  rcston 
diirii."-  tlu>  .-niumcM-  and  autumn.     In  fact,  none  worthy  of 
note  had  fallen  f..r  (wo  months,  except  what  ea.nc  dnrin- 
the  late  eqninoetial  ntonn.     The  khihs  wan  i-arched  with 
heat,  the  roads  were  ground  to  a  fine  da.st,  which  a  !.r.;ath 
of  wind  «h-ovr,  Uke  ch,u(ls  of  .smoke,  into  the  hurnin-  mr ; 
the  fores)  1  uves,  which  had  been  .so  recently  stained  with  a 
marvel)  -us  heaiity  of  brown,  crimson  and  -old,  be(;ame  dim 
and    shrivelled ;  a    nli-ht   touch    8napi)ed,  with    a  sharp, 
craeklin-  sound,  the  dried  branches  of  the  trees ;  even  the 
golden   rod   and   the    pnrplo  aster,  those  hardy   children 
of  autumn,  began  to  hang   their  heads  with  thirst.     All 
day   long,  the  graishopper  and   locust   sent   through   tho 
hot,  pandng  air,  their  shrill  notes,  stinging  the  ear  with 
(Uscord.     The  hwiven  above  looked  like  a  dome  of  brass, 
and  a  thin .  filmy  smoke  gathers . . : -m,, „d  th 3  horizon. ^ 

Even  the  rude  settlers,  with  i '^t  >  '  '•''Jned  by  '  '- 
ship,  unsusceptible  of  atmosplitxic  Lluuigfc»,  were  oppressed 
by  the  long,  desolating  drought.        ^ 


t 


f 


Icr 

Htn 
th. 

toy 

Ultl 

( 
cm 
iii 
api 
the 

CO  I 

] 
a  1 
wit 

r 

Est 
tiai 
I 
per 
mil 
feel 
niai 
nxai 
for 
witl 
tim 


MinAMiciir 


117 


I 


i 


hwhv^  till-  wck, 
M-  the  ppoplc  III 

klinnnlchi  re;,'i<)n 
,  none  worthy  of 
hut  ciunc  iliiriii;^' 
^08  piircht'd  witli 
t,  which  a  lm;ath 
i  thi'  hurniiifj;  ah- ; 
tly  stauicil  with  a 
Lfold,  hecaiac  <Uui 
I,  with  a  sharp, 
ic  tijccs  ;  even  the 
!C  hardy   chil(hoii 

witli  thh-st.  All 
sent  through  tho 
riim-  the  car  with 

a  dome  of  brass, 
I  t!v3  horizon. 

. '  f'nned  by  ' 
ffcB,  were  oppressed 


It  wnn  only  when  the  nhadows  of  nftoi  noon  hoj^nn  to 
loiiLjtIicii  and  tlic  HutrH  ray.i  to  strike  oblicpiciy  thn)ii;,di  tli« 
Htately  tri'e.i  of  the  (Jrove,  that  tiiey  were  able  t.)  ^^-ithor 
the  I'  iitii'  listen  to  the  voice  of  tiio  missionary.  He  had  mo 
fi  r  ii'Ofcd  -d  in  his  work,  as  to  he  able  to  draw  the  people 
tog.'thcr,  from  a  considerable  distance  around,  and  their 
imniber  Increased  daily. 

On  the  opposite  bank  of  the  river,  half  way  up  a  slight 
rruiiiem-e,  stood  a  small  stone  ehapi'l.  Tasteful  iitiil  elegant 
ia  its  proportions,  it  presented  a  pictures(iue  and  attractive 
appearance.  There,  once  on  each  Sunday,  the  service  of 
the  Churi^h  <jf  England  was  read,  together  with  u  brief  dis- 
coiu'se  by  a  clergyman  of  that  order. 

Behind  tho  cha[)cl,  and  near  tho  top  of  the  hill,  was 
a  large  stone  cottage  surrounded  by  pretty  grounds  and 
with  ample  stable  eonvcuienees.     It  was  the  Rectory. 

The  Chapel  and  Rectory  had  been  built  and  the  cler- 
gyman was  sustained,  at  a  somewhat  large  cost,  by  tho 
Establishment,  for  the  purpose  of  enlightening  and  Chris- 
tianizing the  population  of  the  parish  of  . 

Unfortunately,  the  incumbent  was  not  the  self-sacrificinnf 
person  needed  to  elevate  such  a  comnumity.  Though 
ministering  at  the  altar  of  God,  he  had  no  true  religious 
feeling,  no  disinterested  love  for  men.  He  was  simply  a 
man  of  the  worl(]  a  bon  vivant,  a  horse  jockey  and  sports- 
Tiian,  who  C()n3i>led  himself  in  the  summer  and  autumn 
tor  liis  exile  in  lijnt  barbarous  regi(m,  by  fdling  his  house 
with  provincial  friends,  who  helped  him  while  away  tho 
time  in  tishiag,  hunting,  and  racing.     The  winter  months, 


i;!i) 


.    t 


118 


JIIKAMICIII. 


ti 


w 


4 


he  usually  spent  at  Frcdericton,  and  during  that  interval 
no  service  was  held  in  the  chapel.  Of  late,  the  few,  who 
were  in  the  habit  of  attending  the  formal  worship  there, 
•had  forsaken  it  for  the  more  animating  services  held  m  the 

Grove. 

Not  only  the  habitual  church-goers,  but  the  people  of 
the  parish  at  large,  began  to  feel  the  magnetizing  influence, 
and  were  drawn  towards  the  same  spot.  For  a  week  or 
more  past,  late  in  the  afternoons  on  which  the  meetings 
were  held,  little  skiffs  might  have  been  seen  putting  off 
from  the  opposite  shore,  freighted  with  men,  women,  and 
children,  crossing  over  to  hear  the  wonderful  preachings 
of  the  missionary. 

What  attracted  them  thither?    Not  surely  the  love  of 

the  truth. 

Most  of  them  disliked  it  in  their  hearts,  and  haxl  not  even 
began  to  think  5f  practising  it  in  their  lives.  They  were 
interested  in  the  man.  They  were,  in  some  sort,  compel- 
led by  the  magical  power  he  held  over  them,  to  listen  to 
entreaties  and  covmscls,  similar  to  those  to  which  they  had 
often  hitherto  turned  a  deaf  car. 

Mr.  Norton  spent  much  of  the  time  with  them,  going 
from  house  to  house,  partaking  of  their  rude  fare,  sym- 
pathizing in  their  joys  and  sorrows,  occasionally  lending 
them  a  helping  hand  in  their  toils,  and  aiding  them  some- 
times by  his  ingenuity  and  skill  as  an  artisan.  They 
found  in  him  a  hearty,  genial,  and  unselfish  friend.  Hence 
when  he  appeared  among  them  at  the  Grove,  their  personal 
interest  in  him  secured  ii  certain  degree  of  order  and  deco- 
rim,  and  caused  them  to  listen  to  him  respectfully. 


f 


I 

g 
o 

o 

h 

C( 

tl 

C( 

hi 

"] 

m 
w 

si] 

<( 

th 
of 


inji  that  inten^iil 
;e,  the  few,  who 
il  worship  there, 
rvices  held  m  the 

it  the  people  of 
etizing  influence, 
For  a  week  or 
ich  the  meetings 
seen  putting  off 
len,  Avomen,  and 
lerful  preachings 

irely  the  love  of 

and  had  not  even 
ves.  They  were 
me  sort,  compcl- 
tliem,  to  listen  to 
o  which  they  had 

svith  them,  going 
rude  fare,  sym- 
sasionally  lending 
ding  them  some- 
a  artisan.  They 
sh  friend.  Hence 
>ve,  their  personal 
f  order  and  deco- 
gpectfully. 


Min,VMICIII. 


119 


Even  beyond  tliis,  he  held  a  power  over  them,  by  means 
of  his  natural  and  persuasive  eloquence,  enlivened  by  varied 
and  graphic  illustnitions,  drawn  from  objects  within  their 
ken,  and  by  the  wonderful  intonations  of  his  powerful  and 
harmonious  voice.  He  began  his  work  by  presenting  to 
them  the  love  of  Christ  and  the  winning  promises  of  the 
gospel. 

This  was  his  favorite  mode  of  reaching  the  heart. 
On  most  of  these  occasions,  Adele  went  to  the  Grove. 
It  varied  her  monotonous  life.  The  strange,  motley  crowd 
gathered  under  the  magnificent  trees,  sitting  on  the  ground, 
or  standing  in  groups  beneath  the  tall  arches  made  by  the 
overlapping  boughs ;  the  level  rays  of  the  declining  sun, 
bringing  out,  in  broad  relief,  their  grotesque  varieties  of 
costume ;  the  gradual  creephig  on  of  the  sobering  twilight ; 
the  alternating  expressions  of  emotions  visible  on  the 
countenances  of  the  listeners,  made  the  scene  striking  to 
her  observing  eye. 

Another  burning,  dusty  day  had  culminated.  It  was 
nearly  five  o'clock  m  the  afternoon.  Mr.  Norton  was  lying 
upon  a  lounge  in  Mr.  BroAvn's  apartment.  Both  gentle- 
men appeared  to  be  in  a  meditative  mood.  The  silence 
was  only  interrupted  by  the  unusual  sound  of  an  occasional 
sigh  from  the  missionary. 

' '  Wliy  1  friend  Norton ; "  at  length  exclaimed  Mr.  Brown, 
"  have  you  really  lost  your  cheerfulness,  at  last?" 

"  Yes,  "  replied  Mr.  Norton,  slowly.  <'  I  must  confess 
that  I  am  wellnigh  discouraged  respecting  the  reformation 
of  this  people.     Here,  I  have  been  preacliing  to  them  these 


V\  :\ 


i  j 


120 


MIK^UIICni. 


weeks  the  gospel  of  love,  presenting  Clmst  to  them  as 
their  friend  and  Saviour,  holding  up  the  truth  in  its  most 
lovely  and  winning  forms.  It  has  apparently  made  no 
impression  upon  their  liearts.  It  is  true,  they  come  in 
crowd-  to  hear  me,  but  what  I  say  to  them  makes  no  per- 
manent mark.  They  forget  it,  the  moment  the  echo  of  my 
voice  dies  upon  their  ears.  The  fact  is,  friend  Brown,  I 
am  disappointed.  I  did  hope  the  Lord  would  have  given 
this  people  unto  me.  But,"  continued  he,  after  a  mo- 
ment's pause,  «'  what  right  have  I  to  be  desponding?   God 


reigns. 


"  According  to  all  accounts,"  replied  Mr.  Brown,  "  they 
must  be  a  hard  set  to  deal  with,  both  mentally  and  mor- 
ally. I  should  judge,  from  what  ]Miss  Adele  tells  me  of 
your  instructions,  that  you  have  not  put  them  upon  the 
same  rigid  regimen  of  law  and  truth,  that  you  may  remember 
you  prescribed  for  my  spiritual  cure."  Mr.  Brown  smiled. 
"  Perhaps,"  he  continued,  "  these  men  are  not  capable  of 
appreciating  the  mild  aspect  of  mercy.  They  do  not  pos- 
sess the  susceptibility  to  which  you  have  been  appealino-. 
They  need  to  have  the  terrors  of  the  law  preached  to  them." 

"  All !  that  is  it,  friend  Brown,  you  have  it.  I  am  con- 
vinced it  is  so.  I  have  fell  it  for  several  days  past.  But 
I  do  dislike,  extremely,  to  endeavor  to  chain  them  to  the 
truth  by  fear.  Love  is  so  much  more  noble  a  passion  to 
enlist  for  Christ.  Yet  they  must  be  drawn  by  some  motive 
from  tlieir  sins.  Love  often  follows  in  the  wake  and  casta 
out  feai'.' 

" I  remoniber,"  said  Mr.  Brown,  "to  have  heard  Mr. 


N- 

kno 

can 

ing 
<( 

thes 

field 

tern 

sidei 

men 

thou 

slial^ 

Whi 

the 

very 

A 
rival 
and, 
sum 

13 
the  i 
the  I 
his  I 
over 
the  ] 

A 
quic 
tion 


/ 


irist  to  them  as 
ruth  in  its  most 
irently  made  no 
B,  tlicy  come  in 
n  makes  no  per- 
it  the  echo  of  niv 
friend  Brown,  I 
i3uld  have  given 
he,  after  a  mo- 
isponding  ?    God 

.  Brown,  "  they 
sntally  and  mor- 
lele  tells  me  of 
them  upon  the 
u  may  remember 
.  Brown  smiled. 
3  not  capable  of 
hey  do  not  pos- 
bcen  appealing, 
ached  to  them." 
i  it.     I  am  con- 
lays  past.     But 
lin  them  to  the 
)Ie  a  passion  to 
by  some  motive 
wake  and  casta 

ave  heard  Mr. 


MITlAMICni. 


121 


N ,  the   famous   Maine  lumber-merchant,   who  you 

know  is  an  infidel,  say  that  the  only  way  the  lumbermen 
can  be  kept  from  stealing  each  other's  logs,  is  by  preach- 
ing to  them  eternal  punis^limcnt." 

"  No  doubt  it  is  true,  "  replied  the  good  man,  "  and  if 
these  souls  cannot  be  sweetly  constrained  into  the  beautiful 
fields  of  peace,  they  must  be  compelled  into  them  by  the 
terrors  of  that  death  that  hangs  over  the  transgressor.  Be- 
sides, I  feel  a  strong  presentiment  that  some  great  judg- 
ment is  about  to  descend  upon  tliis  people.  AH  day,  the 
thought  has  weighed  upon  me  like  an  incubus,  I  cannot 
shake  it  off.  Something  terrible  is  in  store  for  them. 
"What  it  may  be,  I  know  not.  But  I  am  impressed  with 
tlie  duty  of  preaching  a  judgment  to  come  to  tliem,  thia 
very  afternoon.     I  will  do  it." 

A  slight  rattling  of  dishes  at  the  door  announced  the  ar- 
rival of  Bess,  with  a  tray  of  refreshment  for  Mr.  Brown, 
and,  at  the  same  moment,  the  tinkling  of  a  bell  below, 
fiuraraoned  Mr.  Norton  to  the  table. 

Half  an  hour  later,  the  missionary,  with  a  slow  pace  and 
the  air  of  one  oppressed  with  a  great  burden,  walked  to 
the  Grove.  He  seated  himself  on  a  rustic  bench  and  with 
his  head  resting  on  the  trunk  of.  an  immense  elm,  which 
overshadowed  him,  sat  absorbed  in  earnest  thought,  wliile 
the  people  gathered  in  a  crowd  around  him. 

At  length,  the  murmuring  voices  were  hushed  into 
quiet.  He  rose,  took  up  his  pocket  Testament,  read  a  por- 
tion of  the  tenth  chapter  of  Hebrews,  offered  a  prayer » 

11 


H 


■«-:: 


i- 


1 


;;,!■■!  ; 


iil  •' 


122 


JUUAMICHI. 


and  then  sang  in  his  trumpet  tones,  Charles  Wesley's 
magnificently  solemn  hymn,  commencing, — 

.      "  Lo!  on  a  narrow  neck  of  land 

'Twixt  two  unbounded  seas,  I  stand 
Secure !  insensible  1 " 

He  then  repeated  a  clause  in  the  chapter  he  had  just 
re^J  to  them.  "If  we  sin  wilfully  after  that  we  have 
received  a  knowledge  of  the  truth,  there  remaineth  no 
more  sacrifice  for  suw,  but  a  certain  fearful  looking  for 
of  judgment  and  fiery  indignation,  which  shall  devour  the 
adversaries." 

He  began  his  discourse  by  reminding  the  people  of  the 
truths  he  had  presented  to  them  during  the  weelis  past. 
He  had  told  tliem  faithfully  of  their  sinfulness  before  a 
holy  God,  and  pointed  out  the  way  of  safety  and  pm-ifica- 
tion  through  a  crucified  Saviour.  And  he  had  earnestly 
sou'^ht  to  induce  them,  by  the  love  tliis  Saviour  bore  them, 
to  forsake  their.transgressions  and  exercise  trust  in  Him. 
He  now  told  them,  in  accents  broken  with  grief,  that  he 
had  every  reason  to  fear  they  had  not  followed  liis  counsel, 
Rnd  observing  their  hardness  of  heart,  he  felt  constrained  j 
to  bring  them  another  and  different  message, —  a  message  I 
less  tender,  but  coming  from  the  same  divine  source.  He 
then  unfolded  to  them  the  wrath  of  the  Most  High,  kindled 
against  those  who  scorn  the  voice  of  mercy  from  a  dying 
Saviour. 

They  listened  intently.     His  voice,   liis  manner,   his 
words  electrified  them.    His  coimtenancc  was  illuminjnd 


1 


\vi 
the 
clo 

thl 

sta 
ab( 
tru 
me 

UJM 

off 
pre 
1 
whi 
mc 
the 
Ib< 

^ 

mul 
war 
witl 


iT~l 


Charles  'Wesilcy'B 


and 

pter  he  had  just 
ter  that  we  have 
ere  rcmaineth  no 
;arful  looking  for 
1  shall  devour  the 

the  people  of  the 
ig  the  vveelvs  past, 
iinfulncsa  before  a 
afety  and  pui-ifica- 
1  he  had  earnestly 
saviour  bore  them, 
ise  trust  in  Ilim. 
^ith  grief,  that  he 
lowed  liis  counsel, 
he  felt  constrained 
3sage, —  a  message 
livine  source.  He 
klost  High,  kindled 
aercy  from  a  dying 

Ills  manner,   his 
ace  was  illumined 


1 


Min.unciii. 


128 


witli  an  awful  light,  such  as  they  had  not  before  witnessed 
there.  His  eye  shot  out  prophetic  meanings.  At  the 
close,  he  said,  in  a  low  tone,  like  the  murmur  of  distant 
thunder,  "  wliat  I  have  told  you,  is  true,—  true,  as  that  wo 
stand  on  tliis  solid  ground, —  true,  as  that  sky  that  bends 
above  us.  This  book  says  it.  It  is,  therefore,  eternal 
truth.  I  have  it  impressed  upon  my  mind,  that  a  judg- 
ment, a  swift,  tremendous  judgment,  is  about  to  descend 
upon  this  people  on  account  of  their  sins.  I  cannot  shake 
off  this  impression,  and,  under  its  power,  I  warn  you  to 
prepare  your  souls  to  meet  some  dreadful  calamity! 

I  know  not  how  it  will  come, —  in  what  shape,  with 
what  power.     But  I  feel  that  death  is  near.     It  seems  to 
me  tliat  I  see  many  before  me,  who  will  soon  be  beyond 
tlie  bounds  of  time.     I  feel  constrained  to  say  this  to  you. 
I  beg  you  prepare  to  meet  your  God." 

When  he  ceased,  a  visible  shudder  ran  through  the 
multitude.  Tliey  rose  slowly  and  wended  their  way  home- 
ward, many  with  blanched  faces,  and  even  the  hardiest 
with  a  vague  sense  of  some  startUng  event  impending. 


1!^! 


ei! 


iiii  i 
f  1 

'If  ; 

'in 

1     i        i 


m.  !■* 


it 


I- 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


JOIIN  AND  CESiVR. 


At  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  on  the  following  day 
Airs.  Dubois  sat  in  the  Madonna  room.  Her  fingers  were 
employed  upon  a  bit  of  exquisite  embroidery,  over  which 
she  bent  with  a  contracted  brow,  as  if  her  mind  was 
filled  with  anxious  thought. 

Adeie,  robed  in  a  French  silk  of  delicate  blue,  her  rich, 
dark  hair  looped  up  in  massive  braids,  sat  Ustlessly,  poring 
over  a  volume  of  old  French  romance. 

Suddenly  rising,  she  threw  it  hastily  aside,  exclaiming 
as  she  went  towards  an  open  Avindow,  '<  O  I  this  intermin- 
able drought  1  It  makes  me  feel  so  miserable  and  restless. 
Does  it  not  oppress  you,  ma  chore  mere  ?  " 

Mrs.  Dubois  started  suddenly,  as  Adele  spoke. 

"Ah  lyes.     It  is  very  wearisome,"  she  replied. 

«*  Ma  mere,  I  have  disturbed  you.  Of  what  were  you 
thinking  when  I  spoke  ?  " 

"  Thinking  of  the  chateau  de  Rossillon  and  its  inmates. 
It  is  very  long  since  we  have  had  news  of  them.  I  am 
much  troubled  about  the  dear  friends.  It  would  be  like 
rain  on  the  parched  ground,  could  I  once  more  hear  ray 
uncle's  voice.     The  good,  kind  old  man  ! " 


pl;i 
do 
pl( 

nif 

an 

thi 
gei 
roo 
ous 
Brc 
so: 
No 
are 
1 
the 

brU 
Ila^ 
han 
mat 
wor 

A 
mot 
to  0 

IV 
sud( 


ry\ 


I 


i 


the  following  day 

Her  fingers  were 

)idcry,  over  which 

if  her  mind  was 

3ate  blue,  her  rich, 
sat  listlessly,  poring 

T  aside,  exclaiming 
'  O  1  this  intermin- 

lerable  and  restless. 

>» 

ele  spoke. 

he  replied. 

Of  what  were  you 

on  and  its  inmates. 

'8  of  them.     I  am 

It  would  be  like 

ince  more  hear  ray 


JUIU5IICIII. 


125 


J 


"Never  fear,  ma  mere.  You  shall  hear  it.  I  have  a 
plan  that  will  soon  take  us  all  to  Picardy.  You  smile,  but 
do  I  not  accomplish  my  little  schemes?  Do  not  ask  mo, 
please,  how  I  shall  do  it.  The  expedition  is  not  wholly 
matured." 

"  Not  wholly  matured,  indeed !  "  said  Mrs  Dubois,  with 
an  incredulous  smile. 

"Nevertheless,  it  will  take  place,  ma  mere.  But  not 
this  week.  In  the  meantime,  I  am  going  to  invite  the 
gentlemen,  who  are  doubtless  moping  in  JMr.  Brown's 
room,  as  we  are  here,  to  come  in  and  examine  tiiat  curi- 
ously illummated  missal  of  yours.  How  agreeable  Mr. 
Brown  is,  now  that  he  is  getting  well !  Don't  you  think 
so?  And  Mr.  Norton  is  as  good  and  radiant  as  a  seraph  ! 
No  doubt,  they  are  pining  with  homesickness,  just  as  you 
are,  and  will  be  glad  of  our  society." 

Adele  left  the  room,  and  soon  returned,  accompanied  by 
the  two  individuals,  of  whom  she  had  gone  in  search. 

She  placed  Mr.  Brown,  who  looked  quite  superb  in  liis 
brilliantly  flowered  dressing-gown,  in  a  comer  of  a  sofa. 
Having  exammed  the  missal  with  interest,  for  a  time,  he 
handed  it  to  Mr.  Norton  and  was  soon  engagM  in  an  ani- 
mated conversation  with  Mrs.  Dubois,  respecting  various 
works  of  ancient  art,  they  had  Tjoth  seen  in  Europe. 

Adele  watched  with  pleasure  the  light  kmdling  in  her 
mother's  eyes,  as  she  went  back,  in  memory  and  thouo'ht, 
to  other  days. 

Mr.  Norton   gazed  at  his  friend  Brown,  transfigured 
suddenly  from  the  despau-ing  invalid,  who  had  lost  all  inter- 
11* 


!l. 


m :  I 


I 


ii  I 


'p. 


12G 


MIRAMICTII. 


est  in  lite,  to  the  animated  being  before  him,  with  traces 
indeed  of  languor  and  disease  upon  his  person,  but  glowing 
now  with  life,  thought,  and  emotion.  "  A  precious  jewel 
gathered  for  the  crown  of  Ilim,  who  sits  on  the  throne 
above,"  he  wliispercd  to  himself. 

Felicitating  himself  with  this  thought,  he  divided  his 
attention  between  the  conversation  of  Mrs.  Dubois  and 
Mr.  Brown,  and  the  marvels  of  skill,  Iab(ir,  and  beauty 
traced  by  the  old  monk  upon  the  pages  before  him. 

«*  I  must  say,  INIiss  Adele,  that  these  lines  and  colors 
are  put  on  most  ingeniously.  But  I  cannot  help  thinking 
those  ancient  men  might  have  been  better  employed  in  trac- 
ing the  characters  of  divine  truth  upon  the  hearts  of  their 
fellow-beings." 

••True,"  said  Adele,  "had  they  been  free  to  do  it. 
But  they  were  shut  up  from  the  world  and  could  not. 
Illuminating  missals  was  far  better  than  to  pass  their  lives 
in  perfect  idleness  and  inanition." 

••  Don't  you  think,  my  dear,"  said  the  missionary,  who 
had  wisely  never  before  questioned  any  member  of  the 
family  on  the  points  of  religious  foil'-,  '•  that  the  cloister 
life  was  a  stftmge  one  to  live,  for  men  Avho  professed  to 
have  the  love  of  God  in  their  heartu,  with  a  whole  world 
lying  in  sin  around  them,  for  a  field  to  labor  in?  " 

•'  Yes,  I  do,  and  I  think  too  many  other  things  are 
wrong  about  the  Roman  Church,  but  it  pains  my  mother 
to  hear  me  speak  of  them,"  said  Adele,  in  a  low  tone, 
glancing  at  her  mother. 

•'  Is  it  80?"  exclaimed  the  good  man.     Ilia  face  lighted 


up 

the 


opi 
adi 
hai 
sui 

CX] 

pn 
no 
in> 
tin 
an 
no 
to 

tui 
tio 

ex 
du 

be 


D 


N, 


,„.-.. , 


MIUAMlcm. 


127 


c  him,  with  traces 
craon,  hut  glowing 
'  A  precious  jewel 
sita  on  the  throno 

it,  ho  divided  hia 
Mrs.  Dubois  and 
ltib(Jr,  and  beauty 
before  him. 
se  lines  and  colors 
,nnot  help  thinking 
r  employed  in  trac- 
thc  hearts  of  their 

eon  free  to  do  it. 
Id  and  could  not. 
I  to  pass  their  lives 

10  missionary,  who 
ly  member  of  the 
"  that  the  cloister 
I  who  professed  to 
with  a  whole  world 
labor  in  ?  " 
y  other  things  are 
it  pains  my  mother 
ilc,  in  a  low  tone, 


Ilia  face  lighted 


up  with  a  secret  satisfactiim.     But  he  fixed  his  eyes  upon 
the  book  and  was  silent. 

Just  then,  some  one  knocked  on  the  parlor  door.  Adelo 
opened  it  and  beheld  iSIrs.  ISIcNab,  —  her  broad  figure 
adorned  with  the  brilliant  chintz  dress  and  yellow  bandanna 
handkerchief,  filling  up'  the  entire  doorway,  and  her  face 
surrounded  by  tlic  wide,  <»ill  frill,  its  usual  framework, 
expressing  a  curious  mixture  of  shyness  and  audacity. 

It  was  her  fu-st  call  at  the  house,  smce  Adule's  summary 
process  of  ejection  had  been  served  upon  her,  and  it  was 
not  until  that  young  lady  had  welcomed  her  cordially  and 
invited  her  to  come  in,  that  she  ventured  beyond  tho 
threshold.  She  then  came  forward,  made  a  low  courtesy, 
and  seating  herself  near  the  door,  remarked  that  Bess  was 
not  below,  and  hearing  voices  in  the  picture  parlor,  wishing 
to  hear  from  the  patient,  she  had  ventured  up. 

"An'  how  do  ye  find  ycrsel'  Mr.  Brown?"  said  she, 
turning  to  that  gentleman.  "  But  I  needna  ask  the  ques- 
tion, sin'  yer  looks  tell  ye'rc  araaist  wccl." 

IVL'.  Brown  assented  to  her  remark  upon  his  health,  and 
expressed  to  her  liis  obligations  for  her  attentions  to  huu 
during  his  illness. 

"  Them's  naethin ;"  she  replied  with  a  conscious  air  of 
benevolence.  "'Tia  the  buzzincss  o'  my  life  to  tak'  care 
o'  sick  bodies." 

"How  are  Mrs.  Campbell's  children?"  inquired  Mrs. 
Dubois. 

**  All  got  weel,  but  Katy.     She's  mizerble  enough." 

♦'Has  she  not  recovered  from  the  measles,  JNIra.  jMc- 
Nab?" 


iijll.  1' 


i'2S 


.MIUAAriClII. 


•'The  moaslcs  nro  gimo,  but  fiunthiu'  has  t<cttIo(l  on  her 
liLfhts.  Slio  coii^^hs  like  a  woodchuck.  Ati'  I  inii-it  bo  a 
goiu',  for  I  tolc  Mrs.  (/iiwincU,  I  vviulna  stay  a  bit,  but 
wad  come  buck,  immediate." 

Ah  hIic  rose  to  <rn,  she  cauujht  a  sij^lit  of  several  objects 
on  the  hnvn  below,  tliat  rooted  hci^'to  the  spot. 

"  Why  thor'8  Muiuuiychoi^," •he  exclauncd,  "leading  a 
gran'  black  charger,  wi'  a  tall  bravo  youth  a  wulkin'  by 
lii-s  8ido.     "Wha  can  he  be  ?  " 

At  that  moment  a  low,  clear  laugh  riiu',  out  upon  tho 
air,  reaching  tho  cars  of  the  little  corapiny  assembled  in 
the  parlor. 

At  the  sound,  Mr.  Brown's  pale  face  changed  to  a  per- 
fectly ashen  hue,  then  flushed  to  a  deep  crimson.  IIo 
Btarted  to  his  feet,  and  exclaimed,  "John  Lansdowne ! 
brave  fellow ! " 

It  waa  even  so.  John  i  cd  Ca3sar  had  reached  their 
destination. 


Mr 

tall 
< 

dov 

my 
By 

son 
hor 

Mr 


\ 


rem 
The 

evei 

Lai 

< 

Bplc 

elce 


fT" 


hii3  HCttlod  on  lior 

An'  I  miijtt  bo  a 

la  stay  a  bit,  but 

of  several  objects 
3  spot. 

hncil,  "  leadiii;^  a 
utli  a  walkin'  by 

mu'  out  upon  tho 
lui"  assembled  in 

changed  to  a  por- 
Rp  ci'inison.  IIo 
olin    Lanjidownc  I 

ad  reached   their 


CHAPTER   XV. 

THAVELLINO  IN  NEW  nnUNSWICK. 

The  foUowin.i,'  morning,  Mv.  Xorton,  :Mr.  Somcrs,  alias 
Mr.  Brown  and  John  Lansdowno  were  sitting  together, 
talking  of  the  route  from to  Minunichi. 

•«  You  must  have  had  a  tedious  journey,  Mr.  Lans- 
downc,"  observed  the  missionary. 

"  By  no  means,  sir.  Never  had  a  more  glorious  time  in 
ray  life.  The  reach  through  the  forest  was  magnificent. 
By  tlic  way,  Ned,  I  shot  a  wolf.  I  '11  tell  you  how  it  was, 
sometime.  But  how  soon  shall  you  feel  able  to  start  for 
home?" 

"In  two  or  three  weeks.  Dr.  Wright  says,"  replied 
Mr.  Somers. 

"  You  must  not  take  the  road  again,  young  gentleman," 
remarked  Mr.  Norton,  "  until  we  have  had  a  fall  of  rain. 
Tlie  country  is  scorched  with  heat  beyond  anything  I 
ever  knew.  Fine  scenery  on  the  St.  John  Kiver,  Mr. 
Lansdowne." 

"  Wonderfully  fine  and  varied  !  ^  '^c  the  imfolding  of  a 
B^lendid  panorama!  In  fact,  it  nearly  consoled  me  for  the 
sleepless  nights  and  horribly  cooked  diimcrs." 

"  Ah  !  well — .     I  'vo  had  some  experience  while  passing 


!     i 

!  ii 


■(■■ 


■i 


■1 


!  '!5. 

'  n  \ 
11! 

'ill 

i  'ii  ' 

I   k    \ 


!■■ 


II*  1^' 


v 


? 


130 


MIR.\MICIII. 


I 


tip  and  down  in  these;  parts.  In  Rome  localities,  tho  coun- 
try is  pretty  well  po[uiIated,"  Hiiid  Mr.  Norton  witlui  hrouJ 
SMiile. 

'♦  I  Oiin  certify  to  that  r^co^fraphical  faet,"  said  Jolin 
laii;^hin<if.  •»  One  Jii.t^ht,  after  retiriuj^,  I  found  that  a  lar^^e 
ami  active  family  of  niico  liatl  taken  previou.i  sliares  in  tlio 
straw  cot  furnislied  inc.  Astirrinj^  time,  tliey  had,  I  asanro 
yon.  The  followin;^  ni-^lit,  I  was  roused  up  from  a  ten 
horse-power  slnml)er,  by  a  little  million  of  enterprising 
insects, —  well, —  their  stylo  of  locomotion,  thou:j;!i  irr('jj;ii- 
lar,  accomplishes  rcmarkai)lo  results.  By  tho  way,  I  doubt 
that  story  of  a  pair  of  tleas,  harncsacd  into  u  tiny  eluu'iot 
and  broken  into  a  trot." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  jNIr.  Norton.  «*  'T-is  a  libel  on  them. 
They  conld  n't  go  such  a  humdrum  gait." 

"  That  reminds  me,"  saitl  Mr.  Somers,  "of  a  very 
curious  and  original  painting  I  saw  in  Eiigland.  It  repre- 
sented tho  ghost  of  a  flea." 

«•  Ridiculous  !  "  exclaimed  John.  "  You  arc  romancing, 
Ned." 

"I  am  stating  a  fact.  It  was  painted  by  that  eccen- 
tric ge.iius,  Blake,  upon  a  panel,  and  exhibited  to  mo  by 
an  aquaintancc,  who  was  a  friend  of  the  artist." 

««  \Vliat  was  it  like?"  eaid  John. 

"  It  was  a  naked  figure  with  a  strong  body  and  a  short 
neck,  with  burning  eyes  longing  for  moisture,  and  a  faco 
worthy  of  a  murderer,  holding  a  bloody  cup  in  its  clawed 
hands,  out  of  which  It.  seemed  eager  to  drink.  The  shape 
was  strange  enough  and  tho  coloring  splendid,  —  a  kind  of 


It 

ar 
pe 
\vi 

CO 

fu< 
sal 

liv 

inc 
ha 

M 

Di 
Re 

SU( 

eei 
fri( 
on 

cle 

is 

W 


n"\-' 


I 


MiuAArinri. 


ini 


Idciilitic.'',  tho  coun- 
Nurtun  with  11  hroud 

il  flirt,"  said  Joliti 
I  fouiul  that  a  lur^o 
•cvitjujt  Hhiiros  in  tlio 
5,  they  hull,  I  lusauro 
iscd  lip  from  a  ton 
ion  of  cntorpri.-iinjj 
tion,  thouujh  irrcj^ii- 
[Jy  the  way,  I  (l(jul)t 
into  a  tiny  chariot 

[■-is  a  libel  on  them. 

» 

iomors,  "  of  a  very 
Etiglunil.     It  rcpre- 

You  arc  romancing, 

ited  by  that  ccccn- 
exhibitcd  to  mc  by 
:ic  artist." 

[g  body  and  a  short 
moisture,  and  a  face 
ly  cup  in  its  clawed 
}  drink.  The  .shape 
plendid,  —  a  kind  of 


f,distening  f?rcen  and  dusky  K(.1.1,  —  beautifully  varuishod. 
It  was  in  fact  tlio  Ht»intualizatiitn  of  a  Ilea." 

••  What  n  conception  !  "  exeluiuud  Mr.  Xorton.  "  The 
artlst'H  imagination  must  have  been  etinuilated  by  intense 
personal  sulTerings  from  said  insect.  Tho  savage  little 
wretch.  How  did  you  manage  the  diet,  Mr.  Lansdowne? '» 
conthuied  the  missionary,  a  smile  twinkling  all  over  hid 
face. 

«•  Ah  1  yes,  the  table  d  'hutr..  I  fonnd  Q^^^  and  jjotatooa 
safe,  and  devoted  myself  to  them,  I  was  always  ^uro  to 
get  snagged,  when  I  tried  anything  else." 

'« Verily,  there  is  room  fur  improvement  in  the  mode  of 
living,  among  His  Majesty's  loyal  subjects  of  this  Prov- 
ince. I  should  say,  that  in  most  respects,  they  arc  about 
half  a  centiuy  behind  the  age,"  said  Mr.  Norton. 

"  How  did  you  ascertain  I  was  here,  John?"  inquired 
Mr.  Somcrs. 

"  I  learned  at  Fralcricton  that  you  had  left  with  ]\[r. 
Dubois,  and  I  obtained  directions  there,  for  my  route. 
Really,"  added  John,  "you  are  fortunate  to  have  found 
such  an  establishment  as  this  to  be  laid  up  in." 

'•  Yes.  God  be  thanlicd  for  the  attention  and  care  re- 
ceived in  tliis  house  and  for  the  kindness  of  this  good 
friend,"  said  Mr.  Somcrs,  laying  liis  hand  affectionately 
on  the  missionary's  ann. 

"But  this  Mummydiog,"  said  John,  breaking  into  a 
clear,  musical  laugh,  «'  that  I  came  across  last  night.  Ho 
is  a  curiosity.  That  of  course,  isn't  liia  real  name. 
^Vlxatisit?" 


1^    I 


'  1 


132 


MIRAMICHI. 


■I 

If 


!-l^:; 


I    !■ 


"  He  goes  by  no  other  name  here,"  replied  Mr.  Norton. 
*'  I  met  liira,"  said  John,  "  ii  few  rods  from  here,  and  asked 
him   if  he   could   inform   mo   Avhere   jNIr.    Dubois   lived. 

*  Well,  8  'pose  I  ken,'  he  said.     After  waiting  a  few  min- 
utes for  some  direction,  and  none  forthcoming,  I   asked, 

•  will  you  have  the  goodness  to  show  me  the  house,  sir?  ' 

•  S  'pose   you   hev  particiler  business   there,'  he  inquired- 

♦  Yes.     I  have,  sir.'     «  Well !  I  s'pose  ye  arc  goin'  fur  to 
see  hur  ? ' 

"  '  Hur  1 '  I  exclaimed,  my  mind  immediately  reverting  to 
the  worthy  ancient,  who  assisted  Aaron  in  holding  up  the 
hands  of  Moses  on  a  certain  occasion,  mentioned  in  the  old 
Testament.  '  Hur  1  who  is  Hur  ?  I  am  in  pursuit  of  a 
gentleman, —  a  friend  of  mine.  I  know  no  other  person 
here.'  '  O  well  1  come  then ;  I  '11  show  ye.'  As  he  waa 
walking  along  by  Cassar's  side,  I  heard  him  say,  apparently 
to  himself,  '  He 's  a  gone  'un,  any  way.'  " 

*' He  is  a  queer  specimen,"  said  Mr.  Norton.  "And 
now  I  think  of  it,  Mr.  Somers,  IVIicah  told  me  this  mom- 
in<r,  that  a  jrood  horse  will  be  brought  into  the  settlement, 
by  a  friend  of  his,  in  about  a  week.  He  thinks,  if  you 
like  the  animal,  he  can  make  a  bargain  and  get  it  for  you." 

♦'Thank  you  for  your  trouble  about  it,  my  dear  sir," 
fcplied  Mr.  Somers. 

*'  Two  \teek8  then,  Ned,"  said  John,  *'  before  the  Doc- 
tor will  let  you  start.  That  will  give  me  ample  o;pportu- 
nity  to  explore  the  length  of  the  jVIiramichi  Riv'cf.  What 
are  the  fisliiag  privileges  in  this  region  ?  " 

'<  Fine, —  remarkably  good  I "  said  the  missionary. 


H'"' 


MlUAiMICni. 


133 


plied  Mr.  Norton. 
)m  here,  and  asked 
[r.  Dubois  lived, 
'^aiting  a  few  min- 
icoming,  I  asked, 
le  the  house,  sir?  ' 
lere,'  he  inquired, 
ye  are  goin'  fur  to 

[liately  reverting  to 
in  holding  up  tho 
3ntioned  in  the  old 
a  in  pursuit  of  a 
;v  no  other  person 
ye.'  As  he  was 
im  say,  apparently 

n 

.  Norton.  "And 
old  me  this  mom- 
ato  the  settlement, 
He  thinks,  if  you 
nd  get  it  for  you." 
;  it,  my  dear  sir," 

*'  before  the  Doc- 
me  ample  Q;pportu- 
chi  Rivcf.     What 

3  missionary. 


In  the  course  of  a  few  minutes,  John,  witli  the  assistance 
of  Mv.  Norton,  arranged  u  plan  for  a  fishing  and  huntin-r 
excursion,  upon  which,  if  Micah's  semces  could  be  obtain! 
cd,  he  was  to  start  the  next  day. 

After  inquiring  for  the  most  feasible  way  of  transmit- 
ting a  letter,  he  retired  to  relieve  the  anxiety  of  his  parents 
by  informing  them  of  the  success  of  his  journey.  As 
might  have  been  expected,  after  a  somewhat  detaUed 
account  of  Iiis  travels,  tlio  remainder  of  his  epistle  homo 
was  filled  with  the  efforvescencd  of  his  excitement  at 
havmg  found  Mr.  Somers,  and  thus  triumphantly  ac 
comph&hcd  the  object  of  his  expedition. 

Beneath  the  fliish  and  foam  of  John's  youthful  sph-it, 
there  were  depths   of  hidden  tenderness  and  truth.     He 
was  warmly  attached  to  his  uncle.     The  difference  in  a-e 
between  them  was  not  great,  and  even  that,  was  consid- 
erably chminished  by  the  peculiar  traits  of  each.   John  pos- 
sessed the  hardier  features  of  character.    He  had  developed 
a  strong,  determined  will  and  otlicr  granite  qualities,  which 
promised  to  make  liim  a  tower  of  defence  to  those  that 
might  shelter  themselves  beneath  his  wing.     These  traits 
contrasting  with  his   own,  JMr.  Somers  appreciated  and 
admu'cd.      They  imparted   to   him    a    strengthening   in- 
fluence.    John,  on  the  other  hand,  was  chai-mcd  with  the 
genial  disposition,  the  mobile  and  brilliant  intellect  of  his 
uncle,  and   the  ready  sympathy  he  extended   him  in  his 
pursuits.     In  short,   they  were   drawn  together   in   that 
peculiar,  but  not  uncommon  bond  of  friendship,  symbol- 
ized by  the  old  intimacy  of  the  ivy  and  the  oak. 
12 


I    ■ 


Hi: 


^',' 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


THE  FLO"\VER    UNFOLDING. 


TiiERE  is  nothing  in  human  life  more  lovely  than  the 
transition  of  a  young  girl  from  cliildhood  into  womanhood. 
It  suggests    the   springtimcr  of  the   year,  when  the  leaf 
buds  are  partly  opened  and  the  tender  blossoms  wave  in 
the  genial  sunshine ;  when  the  colors  so  airy  and  delicate 
are  set  and  the  ethereal  odors   are  wafted  gently  to  the 
senses ;  when  earth  and  air  are  filled  with  sweet  prophe- 
cies of  the  ripened  splendor  of  summer.     It  is  like  the  mo- 
ments of  early  morn,  when  the  newly  risen  sun  tlu-ows 
abroad  his  light,  giving  token  of  the  majestic  glories  of  noon- 
day, while  the  earth  exhales  a  dewy  freshness  and  the  air 
is  enchanted  by  the  songs  of  birds,  just  wakened  from  their 
nests.    It  recalls  the  overture  of  a  grand  musical  drama  in- 
troducing the  joyous  melodies,  the  wailing  minors,  the  noble 
chords  and  sublime  symphonies  of  the  glorious  harmony. 
The  development  of  the  maiden  is  like  the  opening  of 
some  lovely  flower-bud.     As  life  unfolds,  the  tender  smile 
and  bliish  of  cliildliood  mhigle  wth  the  grace  of  maidenly 
repose ;  the  upturned,  radiant  eye  gathers  new  dcptlis  of 
thought  and  emotion;   the   delicate  features,  the  wavy, 
pliant  form,  bogin  to  reveal  their  wealth  of  grace  and 
beauty. 


an 
m( 
th 
foi 
ph 
a] 
na 
of 

Sci 
tra 


fori 
the 
a  ft 
was 
whi 
mai 
ing 
visi 
fore 
I 
Ilei 
Tni 
feat 


n-^-.: 


MIRASnCIII. 


135 


3  lovely  than  tlio 
into  womanhood, 
r,  when  the  leaf 
blossoms  wave  in 
airy  and  delicate 
ed  gently  to  the 
th  sweet  prophe- 
It  is  like  the  mo- 
risen  sun  tlu'ows 
ic  glories  of  noon- 
Imess  and  the  air 
akcned  from  their 
musical  drama  in- 
minors,  the  noble 
iorious  harmony. 
;c  the  opening  of 
,  the  tender  smile 
grace  of  maidenly 
srs  new  deptlis  of 
itures,  the  wavy, 
1th  of  grace  and 


Sometimes,  the  ovcrstimulatcd  hud  is  forced  into  intense 
and  imnatural  life  and  bloom.  Sometimes,  the  develop- 
ment is  slow  and  almost  imperceptible.  Fed  gently  by 
the  light  and  dews  of  heaven,  the  flower,  at  length,  circles 
forth  in  perfected  beauty.  Here,  the  airy  grace  and 
playfulness  of  a  Eosalind,  or  the  purity  and  goodness  of 
a  Desdemona  is  developed ;  there,  the  intense,  passionate 
nature  of  a  Juliet,  or  the  rich  intellect  and  lofty  elegance 
of  a  Portia. 

But,  how  brief  is  that  bright  period  of  transition  I 
Scarcely  can  the  artist  catch  the  beautiful  creation  and 
transfer  it  to  the  canvas,  ere  it  has  changed,  or  faded. 

"How  small  a  part  of  time  they  share, 
That  are  so  wondrous  sweet  and  fair ! " 

Adele  Dubois  had  just  reached  this  period  of  life.  Her 
form  was  ripening  into  a  noblo  and  statuesque  symmetry ; 
the  light  in  her  eyes  shot  forth  from  darkening  depths  ; 
a  faint  bloom  was  creeping  into  her  cheek ;  a  soft  smile 
was  wreathing  those  lips,  wrought  by  nature,  into  a  some- 
what hauglity  curve;  the  frank,  careless,  yet  imperious 
manner  was  chastening  into  a  calmer  grace ;  a  transform- 
ing glory  shone  around  her,  making  her  one  of  those 
visions  that  sometimes  waylay  and  haunt  a  man's  life 
forever. 

Her  physical  and  intellectual  growth  were  symmetrical. 
Hor  mind  was  quick,  penetrative,  and  in  constant  exercise. 
Triitliful  and  upright,  her  soul  slione  through  her  form  and 
features,  as  a  clear  ^ame,  phieed  withm  a  transparent  vase, 


■I: 


.f 


136 


MinAMicnr. 


if 
j:|f 


brinpjs  out  the  ailornmcnts  of  flower,  leaf,  and  gem,  with 
which  it  is  enriched. 

In  a  brown  stone  house,  in  the  city  of  P.,  State  of , 

there  hangs  in  one  of  the  chambers  a  picture  of  Adelc, 
rei)resenting  her  as  she  was  at  this  period  of  her  life.  It 
is  full  of  beauty  and  elegance.  Sun-painting  was  an  art 
unknowTi  in  the  days  when  it  was  executed.  But  the 
modern  photographist  could  hardly  have  produced  a  pic- 
ture so  exquisitely  trutliful  as  well  as  lovely. 


hii 
rif 
in 


'I!! 


1 : ' 


sk 
cai 
pr 
Hi 
be 
wi 

g" 
an 

a  i 

let 


I 'I'    1 


i; 


00^ 

foi 
Tl 
tei 
an 


rr^... 


loaf,  and  gem,  with 


fP.,  State  of , 

a  2)icturc  of  Adelc, 
fiod  of  her  life.  It 
painting  was  an  art 
executed.  But  the 
ive  produced  a  pie- 
)vcly. 


CHAPTER  XVn. 


TOE   DEER  IIUNT. 


Eakly  in  the  morning,  John  Lansdowne,  having  donned 
his  hunting  suit  and  taken  a  hasty  breakfast,  seized  hia 
rifle  and  joined  Micali,  already  waiting  for  him  on  the  lawn 
in  front  of  the  house. 

He  was  equipped  in  a  tunic-like  shirt  of  dressed  buck- 
skin, with  leggings  and  moccasins  of  the  same  material, 
each  curiously  embroidered  and  fringed.  The  suit  was  a 
present  from  his  mother,  —  procured  by  her  from  Canada. 
His  head  was  siu-mountcd  by  a  blue  military  cap  and  his 
belt  adorned  with  powder  pouch  and  hunting-knife.  Micah 
with  a  heavy  blanket  coat  of  a  dingy,  brown  color,  leg- 
gings of  embroidered  buckskin,  skull  cap  of  gray  fox  skin, 
and  Indian  moccasins ;  wore  at  his  belt  a  butcher  knife  in 
a  scabbard,  a  tomaliawk,  otter-skin  pouch,  containing  bul- 
lets and  other  necessaries  for  such  an  expedition. 

In  the  dim  morning  light  they  walked  briskly  to  a  little 

cove  in  the  river,  where  Micah's  birchen  canoe  lay,  and 

found  it  already  stored   with  supplies  for  the  excursion. 

There  were  bags  of  provisions,  cooking  utensils,  a  small 

tent,  neatly  folded,  Micah's  old  Dutch  rifle,  fishmg  taclde, 

and  other  ailicles  of  minor  account. 

12* 


138 


MIRAMICIII. 


i-'!i 


'•jii     i 

13  ^ 


i'  i 


ill!  ^ ' 


il! 


H 


!    li 


li'i' 


"  Ever  travilcd  mucli  in  a  canoo?  "  inquii-cd  MicaU. 

"  None  at  all,"  rei)lie(l  John. 

"Well,  then  I'll  jest  mention,  yeou  need  n't  jump  into 
it,  like  a  catamcount  rampagin'  artcr  fodder,  Yeou  step 
in  kinder  keerfid  and  set  deown  and  don't  move  reound 
more'n  yc  ken  help.  It's  a  mighty  crank  little  critter,  I 
tell  ye.  '  T  would  be  tolahle  unconvenicut  to  upset  and  git 
eour  cargo  turned  into  the  stream." 

"It  would  indeed!"  said  John.  "I'll  obey  orders, 
Mummychog." 

J(jh.i  entered  the  canoe  with  tact,  ajiparently  to  Blicah'a 
satisfaction  and  soon  they  were  gliding  down  the  river, 
now,  owing  to  the  long^ontinued  drought,  considerably 
shrunk  within  its  banks. 

Just  as  night  gave  its  parting  salute  to  the  advancing 
day,  the  voyagers  passed  into  a  region  densely  wooded 
down  to  the  water's  edge.  Oaks,  elms,  and  maples,  birches 
of  different  sorts,  wiUows  and  cranberry,  grew  in  wild 
luxuriance  along  the  margin,  tingal  with  the  rich  hues  of 
autumn.  A  thousand  spicy  odors  exhaled  from  the  frost- 
bitten plants  and  shrubs,  fiUing  the  senses  with  an  mtoxi- 
cating  incense.  When  the  rising  sun  shot  its  level  rays 
through  the  trees,  the  clear  stream  quivered  with  <rolden 
an-ows.  * 

John  viewed  the  scenes  through  which  they  glided  with 
eager  eye. 

Micah's  countenance  expressed  intense  satisfaction.  He 
sat  bolt  upright  in  the  stem  of  the  canoe,  steering  with  his 
padcUe,  his  keen  bullet  eyes  dancing  from  side  to  side  exam- 
mmg  every  object  as  they  passed  along.     Both  were  silent 


th 

is 

in 

bn 

he 


yoi 
oUl 

801 

cav 
Mi 

anc 

< 

pro 
yoi 
of 
did 


mg 


saic 
due 
the 
day 
vati 
off 
onci 


m".. 


MniA:\riCTii. 


1.19 


iiquii-cd  MicaU, 

need  n't  jump  into 
fodder,  Yeou  step 
don't  move  reound 
rank  little  critter,  I 
ant  to  upset  and  git 

"I'll  obey  orders, 

parently  to  IMicah's 
g  down  the  river, 
»ught,  considerably 

5  to  the  advancing 
n  densely  wooded 
ind  maples,  birches 
srry,  grew  in  wild 
h  the  rich  hues  of 
led  from  the  frost- 
ses  with  an  intoxi- 
shot  its  level  rays 
vered  with  golden 

li  they  glided  with 

satisfaction.  He 
,  steering  with  his 
side  to  side  exam- 
Both  were  silent. 


At  length,  Micah  exclaimed,  "Well,  Captin',  this  is 
the  pooticat  way  of  livin'  I  know  on,  any  lieow.  My  'pinion 
is  that  human  natur  waa  meant  to  live  reound  on  rivers  and 
in  the  woods,  or  vyagin'  on  lakes,  and  sech.  I  never 
breathe  jest  nateral  and  lively,  till  I  git  eout  o'  bctweea 
hcouse  walls  into  the  free  air." 

"  'T  is  a  glorious  life,  Mioah  I  I  agree  in  it." 
"Ilark!"  said  Micah  I  Got  ycr  piece  ready?     INIaybo 
you  '11  hev'  a  chance  to  bring  sumthin'  deown.     I  heerd  an 
old  squaw  holler  jest  neow." 

"I'm  ready,"  said  John.  "But  I  didn't  hear  any 
sound.     What  was  it  like  ?  " 

"O!  kinder  a  scoldiu'  seound.  Cawcawee !  caw- 
cawee  I  Don't  ycr  hear  the  critter  reelin'  of  it  off  ?  Ila  I 
'tis  dyin'  away,  though.  We  shall  hear  it  agin,  by 
and  by." 

"  An  old  squaw,"  said  John,  as  the  excitement  the 
prospect  of  a  shot  had  raised  in  his  mind  subsided.  "  Do 
you  have  such  game  as  that,  iu  Miramichi?  I've  heard 
of  witches  flying  on  broomsticks  through  the  air,  but 
did  n't  know  before  tluit  squaws  are  in  the  habit  of  skylark- 
ing about  in  that  way." 

"Well,  ye '11  know  it  by  observation,  before  long," 
said  Micah,  with  a  4io'it  twitch  of  one  eye.  "Them's 
ducks  from  Canada,  o  goin'  south'ard,  ai  they  allcrs  do  in 
the  fall  o'  the  year.  They  keep  up  tliat  ere  scoldin'  seound, 
day  and  night.  Cawcawee  1  cawcawee  !  kind  of  an  aggra- 
vatin'  holler  I  But  I  like  it,  ruther.  It  allcrs  'minds  me 
of  a  bustin'  good  feller  that  was  deown  here  from  Canada 
once." 


'«  1  • 


II     , 


li  < 


I     'l 


il;    i     ' 


I  '.M  I 


,1 


'in 


>i  ! 


140 


MlRAMICin. 


♦<  IIow  remind  you  of  him?"   inquired  John. 
•'Well,  ho  cam'  dcown  on  bissiniss,  but  he  ran  afowl 
o'  me,  and  wc  was  coutin  the  wooda  together,  consid'able. 
IIo   used    to    act  eoutside  the    camp,    bright,    starlight 
nights,  and  sing  songs,  and  sccli.     He  had  a  powerful, 
sweet  v'iec,  and  it  allcrs  'pcarcd  to  me  as  cf  every  kind 
of  a  livin'  thing  hushed  up  and  listened,  when  he  sung 
o'  nights.     He  could  reel  off  most  anything  you  can  think 
on.     There  was  one  Icind  of  a  mournful  ditty  he  sung,  and 
once    in  a  while    he    brung  in   a  chorus,  —  cawcawec  I 
cawcawee,  — jest  like  what  them  ducks  say,  only,  the  way 
he  made  it  seound,  was  soft  and  mellcr  and  doleful-like.    I 
liked  to  hear  him  sing  that,  only  he  was  so  solemn  arter 
it,  and  would  set  and  fetch  up  great  long  sythes.     And 
once  I  asked  him  what  made  him  so  sober  and  take  on  so, 
arter  singin'  it.     lie  said,  INIicah,   my  good  lad,  when  I 
war  a  young  man,  I  had  a  little  French  wife,  that  could 
run  like  a  hind  and  sing  like  a  wild  bird.     Well,  she  died. 
The  very  last  tiling  she  sung,  was,  that  'ere  song*.     When 
I  see  how  he  felt,  I  never  asked  him  another  question. 
lie  sot  and  sythed  a  spell  and  then  got  up,  took  a  most 
oncommon  swig  of  old  Jamaky  and  turned  into  his  blanket." 
Just  as  Micah  ended  tliis  account,  John  caught  sight  of  • 
a  large  bird  at  a  distance  directly  ahead  of  them,  and  his 
attention  became  entirely  absorbed.     It  took  flight  from  a 
partly  decayed  tree  on  the  northern  bank,  and  commenced 
wheeling  around,  above  the  water.     The  canoe  was  rapidly 
uearing  this  promising  game. 

ISIicah  said  not  a  word,  but  observed,  in  an  apparently 
careless  mood,  the  movements  of  hia  young  companion. 


an 
zii 
m 
wi 
up 

hi. 


pic 

r 

siz 
nic 
wit 

ain 

sea 

jou 

( 
). 

can 

< 

epo 
mu! 


I 


MIRAMICIIi. 


141 


;(1  John. 

I  but  l»c  ran  afowl 

,'ctlicr,  consiJ'ablc. 

bright,  starlight 
c  had  a  powerful, 
e  aa  cf  every  kind 
icd,  when  he  Bung 
ling  you  can  think 
ditty  ho  sung,  and 
irus,  —  cawcawcc  I 
say,  only,  the  way 
md  doleful-like.  I 
as  so  solemn  arter 
ong  sythes.  And 
3r  and  take  on  so, 
good  lad,  when  I 

wife,  that  could 

Well,  she  died, 
ere  song.  When 
another  question. 

up,  took  a  most 
I  into  his  blanket." 
m  caught  sight  of  ' 
of  them,  and  his 
took  flight  from  a 
r,  and  commenced 
canoe  was  rapidly 

in  an  apparently 
ag  companion. 


Suddenly,  tlie  bird  poised  himself  for  an  instant  in  tlio 
air,  then  eloHcd  his  wings  and  shot  downward.  Awliiz- 
zing  sound  I  then  a  plash,  and  he  disappeared  beneath  fbo 
Hirfiioo,  throwing  up  the  water  into  sparkling  foani- 
wre.-iths.  He  was  absent  but  a  moment,  and  then  boro 
upward  into  the  air  a  large  fish. 

John's  shot  took  him  on  the  wing,  and  he  dropped  dead, 
his  claws  yet  grasping  the  fish,  on  the  water's  edge. 

"Kuther  harnsum  than  otherwise  I  "  exclaimed  Mioah. 
•'  You  've  got  your  dinner,  Captin'." 

And  he  put  the  canoe  rapidly  towards  the  river-bank,  to 
pick  up  the  game. 

They  found  it  to  be  a  large  fish-hawk,  with  a  good- 
sized  salmon  in  its  fierce  embrace.  It  was  a  noble  speci- 
men of  the  bird,  tinted  with  brown,  ashy  white,  and  blue, 
with  eyes  of  deep  orange  color. 

"  Well,  that  are  a  prize,"  said  Micah.  "Them  birds 
ain't  common  in  these  parts,  bein'  as  they  mostly  live  on 
sea-coasts.  But  this  un  was  on  his  way  seouth,  and  his 
journey  has  ended  quite  unexpected." 

Saying  wliich,  he  threw  both  bird  and  fish  into  the 
canoe,  and  darted  for^vard  on  the  river  asrain. 

"When  shall  we  reach  the  deer  feeding-ground  you 
spoke  of,  Micah  ? 

"O!  not  afore  night,"  said  Micah.  "And  then  we 
must  n't  go  anyst  it  till  mornin'." 

"  I  suppose  you  have  brought  do^vn  some  scores  of  deer 
in  your  hunting  raids,  Micali?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  —  takin'  it  by  and  large,  I've  handled  over 


1.*^ 


I 

I 

1 


ill 


'ill! 


142 


MIRAMICIII. 


consid'ttblo  many  of  'cm.  'Tis  a  critter  I  hate  to  kill, 
Captin',  though  I  s'poso  it  scounds  soft  to  say  so.  Ef 
't  wan't  for  thinkin'  they  '11  git  picked  ofF,  anyway,  I  dimno 
but  I  should  let  'cm  alone  altogether." 

♦♦  Why  do  you  dislike  to  kill  them?" 

♦•  Well,  to  begin  with,  they  'ro  a  harnsum  critter.  They 
hev  sceh  graceful  ways  with  *em,  kinder  grand  ones  tew, 
specially  them  bucks,  with  their  crests  reared  up  agin  the 
sky,  lookin'  so  bold  and  free  like.  And  them  bright  littlo 
does,  —  sometimes  they  hev  sech  a  skcerd,  tender  look  in 
their  eyes,  —  and  I  'v  seen  the  tears  roll  out  on  'era,  when 
they  lay  wounded  and  disabled  like,  jest  like  a  human 
critter.  It  allcrs  makes  me  feel  kind  o'  puggetty  to  see 
that." 

They  made  a  noon  halt,  in  the  shadows  cast  by  a  clump 
of  silver  birches,  and  did  ample  justice  to  the  provision 
flupplied  from  the  pantry  of  the  Dubois  house. 

At  four  o'clock  they  proceeded  onward  towards  the 
deer  hunt.  John  listened  with  unwearied  interest  to 
Micah's  stories  of  peril  and  hair-breadth  'scapes,  by  Hood, 
field,  and  forest,  gathering  many  valuable  hints  in  the 
science  of  woodcraft  from  the  practised  hunter. 

Just  at  dark,  thoy  reached  a  broad  part  of  the  stream, 
and  selected  their  camping-ground.  ' 

The  tent  was  soon  pitched,  a  fire  of  brushwood  kindled 
and  the  salmon  broiled  to  a  relish  that  an  epicure  could 
not  have  cavilled  at.  The  table,  a  flat  rock,  was  also 
garnished  with  white  French  rolls,  sliced  ham,  brown 
bread,  blocks  of  savory  cheese,  and  tea,  smoking  hot. 


/ 


1 
the 
oft 
oft 
loaj 
ho 
thci 
cnv 

( 

ofl 

who 
< 

cau 
toi 
col( 

ye. 

Btrc 

rigl 

and 

le: 

dri: 
( 

tlm 

o't 

is  ( 

Ofc 

it's 

you 


n^.,^' 


m 


1 


MIRAMIcm. 


143 


tcr  I  Imto  to  kill,! 
ft  to  say  80.  Ef 
',  anyway,  I  dimno  ji 


isum  critter.  They 
r  grand  ones  tew, 
reared  up  agin  tho 
,  thera  bright  littlo 
rd,  tender  look  in 
1  out  on  'em,  when 
jest  like  a  human 
o'  puggetty  to  see 

vs  cast  by  a  clump 
3  to  the  provlsiou 
house. 

ward  towards  tho 
caricd  interest  to 
'scapes,  by  flood, 
lablc  hints  in  the 
lunter. 
art  of  the  stream, 

brushwood  kindled 
;  an  epicure  could 
at  rock,  was  also 
liccd  ham,  brown 
smoking  hot. 


The  sylvan  scene, —  the  moon  shedding  its  light  around, 
the  low  music  of  the  gently  rippling  waves,  tho  spicy  odor 
of  the  burning  cedar,  the  snow-white  clouds  and  dccj)  bluo 
of  the  sky  mirrored  in  the  stream,  made  It  a  place  lit  at 
least  for  rural  divinities.  Pan  might  have  looked  in, — ah  1 
ho  is  dead, —  his  ghost  then  might  have  looked  in  upon 
them  from  behind  some  old  gnarled  tree,  with  u  frown  of 
envy  at  this  intrusion  upon  his  ancient  domain. 

On  the  following  morning,  at  tho  first  faint  glimmering 
of  light,  Micoh  was  alert.  lie  shook  our  young  hcro'a 
Hhmililcr  and  woke  him  from  a  pleasant  dream. 

"  Neow  's  the  time,  Captin',"  said  Micah,  speaking  in  a 
cautious  undertone,  '*  neow's  tho  time,  of  wo  do  it  at  all, 
to  nab  them  deer.  While  your  gittin'  rigged  and  takin'  a 
cold  bite,  1  '1  tell  ye  tho  lay  o'  things.  Yo  see,  don't 
ye,  that  pint  o'  land  ahead  on  us,  a  juttin'  out  into  tho 
stream?  "Well,  we've  got  to  put  the  canoe  on  the  water 
right  away,  hustle  in  the  things,  and  pcrcedc  just  as  whist 
and  keerful  as  we  ken,  to  that  pint.  Jest  beyend  that, 
I  expect  the  animils,  when  day's  fairly  up,  will  come  to 
drink.     And  there  's  where  we'  11  get  a  shot  at  'em." 

"  Cut  what  makes  you  expect  they  '11  come  to  drink  at 
that  particular  place,  IMicah?  " 

♦'  You  see  that  pooty  steep  hill,  that  slopes  up  jest  back 
o'  the  pint  o'  land,  don't  ye?  Well,  behind  that  hill  which 
is  steeper  *n  it  looks  to  be,  there  'a  a  largish,  level  piece 
of  greound  that  'a  been  burnt  over  within  a  few  years,  and 
it  'a  grown  up  to  tall  gross  and  got  a  number  o'  clumps  of 
young  trees  on  it,  and  it  'a  'bout  surreounded  by  a  lot  o' 


r     M 


1^' 
5  I 

i;    i 

■•,1 


.4  "':" 


144 


iMIKAMICtll. 


nm^tcr  rocky  l.illd.     Tlwit 'n  (he  focJin' grcound.     There's 

a  ilooi,  gor-o  cut  right  inter  th.it  hill,   buck  o  the  pint. 

The  gorge  has  a  po^.ty  8,no.,th  rocky  bed.     In  the  spring  | 

o'  the  year,  there 'h  a  bt  jk  runn  through  there  ami  pours 

inter  the  river  jcnt  below.     IJut  it 's  all  dry  neow,  and  the 

deer,  as  a  gcn'al  thing  scramble  out  of  their  feedin'  place 

into  this  gorge  and  foUcr  it  deown  to  the  river  to  git  their 

drink.     It  bringa  'em  cout  je=)t  below  the  pint.     We  have 

got  ncow  to  crosa  over  to  the  pint,  buggin'  the  bank,  bo 

the  critters  aha  n't  see  uh,  and  take  a  shot  from  there.     Git 

yer  piece  ready,   Captin.'     Ef  there  'a  tew,  or  more,  I  '11 

Lev  the  fust  ahot  and  you  the  aecond.     Don't  apeak,  artcr 

we  git  on  to  the  pint,  the  loastest  word." 

•♦  I  undcratand,"  said  John,  aa  ho  examined  hit.  rifle,  to 
see  that  all  waa  rightf 

••  Now  for  it,"  said  Micah,  aa  having  fmiahed  their  ar- 
rangeracnta,  they  entered  the  eanoc. 

Silently,  they  paddled  along,  sheltered  from  observation 
by  the  little  wooded  promontory  and  following  as  nearly  as 
possible  the  crankling  river  aa  it  indented  into  the  land 
In  a  few  minutes,  they  landed  and  proceeded  noiselesaly  to 
get  a  view  of  the  bank  below.  • 

After  a  momcnfa  reconnoitre,  John  turned  bis  face 
towarda  MIcuh  with  u  loJv  of  blank  diaappointment. 

But  Micah  looked  cool  and  expectant.  He  merely 
iwinted  up  the  rocky  gr,rge  and  said  under  his  breath  — 

-  'T  aint  time  to  expect  'em  yet.  The  wind,  what  there 
M  on  .t,  ,a  favorable  tew,-  it  blows  right  in  our  faces  and 
cantkerryanyameU  of  ua  to  'em.     Neovr  hide  yourself 


lri'.;li 
linol 

I 
cad 
Hcru 
com 

J 
oust 
they 
The 
doin 
valh 
cage 
broi 
boui 

It 
the 
soor 
draii 
antl( 

\ 
the  I 
fell 
pen( 

A 
ing, 
drip 
spra 
spet 


rri 


i 


Mn.'AMKIII. 


145 


greound.  There's 
,  back  'o  the  pint, 
-th  III  the  Bpring 
gh  there  and  pours 
dry  ncow,  and  the 
their  f'ccdin'  phico 
le  river  to  git  their 
he  i>int.  We  have 
,'gin'  the  Lank,  so 
it  from  there.  Git 
tew,  or  more,  I  'U 
Don't  apeak,  artcr 

luiincd  hit)  rifle,  to 

finished  their  nr- 

I  from  observation 
jwing  as  nearly  aa 
cd  into  the  land, 
edcd  noiselessly  to 

• 

turned  his  face 
ipointment. 
int.  He  merely 
r  his  breath  — 
wind,  what  there 
t  in  our  faces  and 
ow  hide  yourself 


rlirht  nway.     ICoop  near  luc,  Captin',  so  that  we  ken  make 
Iniotions  to  ciich  other." 

In  a  few  moniontsi  they  had  secured  their  ambuscade, 
each  lying  on  the  ground  at  full  length,  concealed  by  low, 
scrubby  trees.  IJy  a  slight  turn  of  the  head,  each  could 
conunand  a  view  up  the  gorge  for  a  considerable  distance. 

Just  as  the  sun  began  to  show  his  broad,  red  disc  in  the 
oast,  new  light  shot  forth  from  the  eyes  of  the  hunters,  as 
they  perceived  a  small  herd  coming  down  the  rocky  pathway. 
Tlio  creatures  bounded  along  with  a  wild  and  graceful  free- 
dom, until  they  reached  the  debouehe  of  the  pass  into  the 
valley.  There  they  paused, — scanned  the  scene  with 
eager  eyes  and  snuffed  the  morning  breeze.  The  wind 
brought  no  tale  of  their  enemies,  close  at  hand,  and  they 
bounded  on  fearlessly  to  the  river's  brink. 

It  was  apparently  a  family  party,  a  noble  buck  leading 
the  group,  followed  by  a  doe  and  two  young  hinds.  They 
soon  had  their  noses  in  the  stream.  The  buck  took  large 
draughts  and  then  raising  '<  s  Imnghty  front,  tossed  his 
antlers,  as  if  in  defiance,     ,  the  face  of  the  god  of  day. 

M.cab's  eye  was  at  ti,^  riHe.  A  crack  and  a  whizz  m 
the  air.  The  noble  reattiire  gave  one  mighty  bound  and 
fell  dead.  The  bv^i  hud  entered  his  broatl  forehead  and 
penetrated  to  the  brain. 

At  the  report  of  the  rifle,  the  doe,  who  was  still  drink- 
ing, gave  a  bound  in  the  air,  scattering  the  spray  from  her 
dripping  mouth,  wheeled  with  the  rapidity  of  lightning,  nm' 
sprang  towards  the  gorge.  But  John's  instantaneous  soot 
sped  through  the  air  and  the  animal  fell  dead  from  her 
13 


r'-Ar^^''^Sfi--^'ife-^5;-siiH^sr*'->«-*!:!j  ■ ,,  v?.- 


r. 


IS 


It. 


I  !: 


I 


1 


146 


MIRAMICni. 


second  bound,  the  ball  having  entered  the  heart.  In  the 
midst  of  their  triumph,  John  and  Micah  watched,  with  re- 
lenting eyes  the  two  hinds,  while  they  took,  as  on  the  winga 
of  the  wind,  their  forlorn  flight  up  the  fatal  pathway. 

Having  slung  their  booty  on  the  boughs  of  a  wide- 
branching  tree,  and  taken  some  refreshment  from  the  sup- 
plies in  the  canoe,  Micah  declared  himself  good  for  a  scram- 
ble up  the  hill  to  the  feeding-ground,  a  proposition  John 
readily  accepted. 

Over  rock,  bush  and  brier,  up  hill  and  down,  for  five 
hours,  they  pursued  their  way  with  unmitigated  zeal  and 
energy.  They  scaled  the  hill,  cut  by  the  gorge,—  ap- 
proaching, cautiously,  its  brow,  overlooking  the  deer 
haunt.     But  they  could  perceive  no  trace  of  the  herd. 

"It'sabeout  as  I  expected,"  said  Micah,  "  them  two 
little  hinds  we  skeered,  gin  the  alarm  to  the  rest  on  'era 
and  they've  all  skulked  off  to  some  covit  or  ruther. 
S'pose  Captin',  we  jest  make  a  surkit  reound  through  the 
rest  of  these  hills,  maybe  we  '11  light  on  'em  agin." 
•'  Agreed,"  responded  John. 

They  skirted  the  enclosure,  but  without  a  chance  for 
another  shot.  As,  about  noon,  they  were  rapidly  de- 
scending the  gorge,  on  their  way  back  to  the  promontory, 
the  scene  of  their  morning  success,  Micah  proposed  that 
they  should  have  "  a  nice  brile  out  of  that  fat  buck  at  the 
pint,  and  then  put  for  the  settlement." 

"  Not  yet,"  said  John.     "  Why,  we  are  just  getting 

into  this  glorious  life.    What  'a  your  huny,  Mummjchog?° 

"Well,  ye  see,"  said-  Micah,  "I  can't  be  gone  fmm 


hv 
wi 

dis 
an 

cor 
noi 
bri 
ter 
wa 

ori 
fre 
wit 
tim 

no{ 
ppe 

bef( 

1:3 

exp 

to  r 

he] 

as 

war 

Mh 


rrt  '•' 


tlie  heart.     In  the 
1  watched,  with  re-  jfl 
)ok,  as  on  the  winga  || 
atal  pathway, 
jougha  of  a  wide- 
ment  from  the  sup- 
If  good  for  a  scrarn- 
a  proposition  John 


and  down,  for  five 
mitigated  zeal  and 
y  the  gorge, —  ap- 
irlooking  the  deer 
!C  of  the  lierd. 
tlicah,  "  them  two 
;o  the  rest  on  'era 
!  covit  or  ruther. 
30und  through  the 
'em  agin." 


hout  a  chance  for 
were   rapidly   de 
3  the  promontory, 
cah  proposed  that 
lat  fat  buck  at  the 

5  are  just  getting 
y.Mummychog?" 
m't  be  gone  from 


- 


MIKAMICni. 


I*; 


hum,  no  longer  neow,  any  heow.     Next  week,  I'll  try  it 
with  ye  agin,  if  ye  say  so." 

John  acceded  reluctantly  to  the  arrangement,  though  his 
disappointment  was  somewhat  mitigated  by  the  prospect  of 
another  similar  excursion. 

The  meal  prepared  by  Micah,  for  their  closing  repast, 
considering  the  circumstances,  might  have  been  pro- 
nounced as  achieved  in  tlie  highest  style  of  art.  Under  a 
bright  sky,  shadowed  by  soft,  quivering  birch-trees,  scat- 
tering broken  lights  all  over  their  rustic  table,  never  surely 
was  a  dinner  eaten  with  greater  gusto. 

Life  in  the  forest  I  ended  all  too  soon.  But  thy  mem- 
ories live.  Memories  redolent  of  j'outh,  health,  strength, 
freedom,  and  beauty,  come  through  the  long  years,  laden 
with  dews,  sunshine,  and  fragrance,  and  scatter  over  the 
time-worn  spirit  refreshment  and  delight. 

As  our  voyagers  were  paddling  up  stream  in  the  after- 
noon, in.  answer  to  questions  put  by  John  to  Micah,  re- 
specting the  Dubois  family,  he  remarked  — 

"Them  Doobyce's  came  to  the  kentry,  jest  ten  year 
before  I  did.  Well,  I  've  heerd  say,  the  Square  came  fust, 
i;  2  did  n't  set  himself  up  for  anything  great  at  all,  but 
exploredreound  the  region  a  spell,  and  was  kinder  pleasant 
to  most  anybody  he  came  across.  Somehow,  or  'nuther, 
he  had  a  kind  of  a  kingly  turn  with  him,  that  seemed  jest 
as  nateral  as  did  to  breathe,  and  ye  could  see  that  he 
warn't  no  ways  used  to  sech  a  wildcat  sort  of  a  place  as 
Miramichi  was  then." 

"  I  wonder  that  he  remained  here,"  said  John. 


vA 


'.■-  i-:. 


r 


_^-'  rtW«P>*«  'WW^p^»v'5fc((it,^j»»,y3j.>m,  ..1.  rt«o«*tMte=«Bitri . 


148 


MIRAJIICm. 


Mi 

'I 
1' 


il     f^! 


f. 


'«'! 


i." 


*'  Well,  the  pesky  critters  reound  here  rutlicr  took  to 
hipi,  and  ho  bought  a  great  lot  o'  land  and  got  workmen 
and  built  a  house,  and  fetched  his  wife  and  baby  hero.  So) 
they  've  lived  here  ever  since.  But  they  're  no  more  like 
the  rc?t  o'  the  people  in  these  parts,  than  I  'm  like  you, 
and  it  has  allera  been  a  mystery  to  me  why  they  should 
stay.  I'jut  I  s'pose  they  know  tlicir  own  bissinisa  best. 
They  're  allors  givin'  to  the  poor,  and  they  try  to  make  tlie 
settlers  more  decent  every  way,  but  'taint  been  o'  much 
use." 

After  a  long,  meditative  pause,  Micah  said,  '«  Ncow 
Captin',  I  want  yeou  to  answer  me  one  question,  honestly. 
I  aint  a  goiu'  to  ask  any  thing  sarcy.  Did  ye  ever  in  yer 
life  see  a  harnsumer,  witchincr  critter  than  Miss  Adele  is  ?  " 
Micah  fixed  his  keen  eye  triumphantly  upon  our  hero, 
as  if  he  was  aware  beforehand  that  but  one  response  could 
be  made.  John  surprised  by  tlie  suddenness  of  the  ques- 
tion, and  somewhat  confused,  fur  tlie  moment,  by  a  vague 
consciousness  that  his  companion  had  found  the  key  to  his 
tlioughts,  hesitated  a  little,  but  soon  recovered  sufficiently 
to  piirry  the  stroke. 

,     *•  You  don't  mean  to  say,  IMIcah,  that  there 's  any  person 
for  beauty  and  bewitchingncss  to  be  compared  with  Mrs 

McNab?" 
•"  Whew-ew,"  uttered  Micah,  while  every  line  and  feature 

in  his  countenance  expj^sscd  ineffiible  scorn.     He  gave 

several  extra  strokes  of  the  paddle  with   great  cncriry. 

Suddenly,  his  grim   features  broke  into  a  genial   smile. 
"Well,  Captin',"  he   said,"  ef  yeou    choose  to  play 


'po! 
bel 

I)u 

< 
( 

sha 

J 
the 
car 
the 


JIIIiAMIcm. 


119 


crc  rutlicr  took  to 
and  got  workmen 
ml  baby  hero.  Sol 
y  're  no  more  like 
lan  I'm  like  you, 
c  why  they  should 
iwn  bissiniss  best. 
(jy  try  to  make  tlie 
taint  been  o'  much 

;ah  said,  "  Ncow 
r(uestion,  honestly. 
Did  yc  ever  in  ycr 
m  Miss  Adelc  is  ?  " 
ly  upon  our  hero, 
)ne  response  could 
nness  of  the  qucs- 
iment,  by  a  vague 
und  the  key  to  his 
mered  sufficiently 

there's  any  person 
rnparcd  with  Mrs. 

h 

iry  line  and  feature 
scorn.  He  gave 
th  great  energy. 
•  a  genial  smile, 
clioosc  to  play 


'possum  that  way,  yc  ken.  But  ye  needn't  expect  me  to 
believe  in  them  tricks,  cos  I  'm  an  old  'un." 

John  laughed  and  replied,  "  Mummychog,  Miss  Adelo 
Dubois  is  a  perfect  beauty.     I  can't  deny  it." 

"  And  a  parfeck  angel  tew,"  said  Micah. 

"  I  don't  doubt  it,"  said  John,  energetically.  "  When 
shall  we  reach  the  settlement,  IMicali  ?  " 

"  Abcout  three  hours  arter  moonrise." 

And  just  at  that  time  our  voyagers  touched  the  spot 
they  had  started  from  the  day  before,  and  unloaded  thsir 
(■:irgo.  They  were  received  at  the  Dubois  house  ^  ith 
the  compli-nents  due  to  successful  hunters. 


_,^'>ti'iifpsnyiifvtm.'=mimmiv^. 


i 

I   .1 


4  < 


i 


t;1 


';  Mi 


CHAPTER  xV^n. 


THE  PEKSECUTION. 


On  the  following  afternoon,  Mr.  Norton  preached  to  a 
larjicr  and  far  more  attentive  audience  than  usual.  The 
solemn  warnings  he  had  uttered  and  the  fearful  presenti- 
ments of  cominr  evil  he  had  expressed  on  the  last  occasion 
of  assembling  at  the  Grove,  had  been  conmiunicated  from 
mouth  to  mouth.  Curiosity,  and  perhaps  some  more 
elevated  motive,  had  drawn  a  numerous  crowd  of  people 
together  to  hear  him. 

He  spoke  to  them  plainly  of  their  sinful  conduct,  partic- 
ularizing the  vices  of  intemperance,  profanity,  gambling, 
and  Sabbath-breaking,  to  which  many  of  them  were  ad- 
dicted. He  earnestly  besought  them  to  turn  from  these 
evil  ways  and  accept  pardon  for  their  past  transgressions 
and  mercy  through  Christ.  He  showed  them  the  conse- 
quences of  their  refusal  to  listen  to  the  teachings  and 
counsels  of  the  book  of  God,  and,  at  last,  depicted  to 
them,  with  great  vividness,  the  awful  glories  and  terrors 
of  the  day  of  final  accoui 

"  Wlicn  the  Judge  shall  come  in  splendor, 
Strict  to  mark  and  just  to  render."  ^ 


A 

them 
offw 
eouh 
upon 
echoi 
injur 
accci 
Judg 
and  1 

A 
upon 
face 
pcoi 
rcma 
even 

ISI 
undo 
the  c 
awaj 

of  a] 

an   I 

open 
t( 

dowr 
cent, 
her  1 
Jo 
be  sc 


m 


on  preached  to  a 
Imn  usual.  The 
!  fearful  presenti- 

the  last  occasion 
nimunicatcd  from 
laps   some    more 

crowd  of  peoplt'! 

1  conduct,  partic- 
Panity,  gambling, 
tf  them  were  ad- 
turn  from  these 
ist  transgressions 
1  them  the  conse- 
e  teachings  and 
last,  depicted  to 
ories  and  terrors 


(lendor, 


MIUAMICUI. 


151 


As  his  mind  dilated  with  the  awful  grandeur  of  the 
theme,  his  thoughts  kindled  to  a  white  heat,  and  he  flung 
off  words  that  seemed  to  scorch  and  burn  even  the  callous 
souls  of  those  time-hardened  transgressors.  lie  poured 
upon  their  ears,  in  tones  of  trumpet  power  and  fulness, 
echoed  from  the  hills  around,  the  stern  threatenings  of 
injured  justice ;  he  besought  Ihem,  in  low,  sweet,  thrilling 
accents,  to  yield  ihemsolvcs  heart  and  life  to  the  Great 
Judge,  who  will  preside  in  the  day  of  impartial  accounts, 
and  thus  avert  his  wrath  and^be  happy  forever. 

At  the  close,  he  threw  himself  for  a  few  moments 
upon  the  rustic  bench  appropriated  to  him,  covered  his 
face  with  his  hands  and  seemed  in  silent  prayer.  The 
pcoi  V  Mivoluntarily  bent  their  heads  in  sympathy  and 
remained  motionless.  Then,  he  rose  and  gave  them  the 
evening  benediction. 

Mr.  Somers,  his  nephew,  and  Adelc  had  been  sitting 
under  the  shade  of  an  odorous  balm  poplar,  on  the  sftirt  of 
the  crowd,  at  first  watching  its  movements,  and  then  drawn 
away  from  these  observations,  by  the  impressive  discourse 
of  Mr.  Norton. 

"  What  a  clear,  melodious  voice  he  has  !  "  said  John  in 
an  undertone  to  Adele,  as  the  missionary  finished  the 
opening  service. 

"Wait,  until  you  hear  its  trumpet  tones,  ^Ir.  Lans- 
downe.  Those  will  come,  by  and  by.  They  are  magnifi- 
cent. Please  listen."  And  Adfele  placed  a  finger  upon 
her  lips,  in  token  of  silence. 

John  listened,  at  first,  in  obedience  to  her  request,  but 
he  soon  became  enchained  by  the  speaker. 


;(.      • 


,««BWr?KMA-»T»<tv?'~.':'rffi»<ffr>*^«V.lw<r»s-",'«w»».*",o^sif,,..  ►  . , 


152 


Mir.Anricui. 


I     1 


\\ 


After  the  discourse  was  concludod,  tlic  trio  remiiincd/ 
Bitting  as  if  spellbound,  quite  unobservant  of  the  crowd, 
slowly  di.^per.sing  around  them. 

"  What  would  that  man  have  been,  Ned,"  at  length  ex- 
claimed John,  "  had  he  received  the  culture  which  sucii 
munificent  gifts  demand?  Why,  he  would  have  been  the 
orator  of  our  nation." 

"  Ay,  John,"  replied  Mr.  Somers,  "  but  it  is  the  solemn 
tenth  of  his  theme  that  gives  him  half  his  power." 

"It  is  as  if  I  had  hoard  the  Dies  ine  chanted,"  said 
Adele. 

As  they  walked  on  towards  the  house  in  silence,  they 
encountered  a  company  of  persons,  of  which  ]\Ir.  Dubois 
and  the  missionary  were  the  centre.  These  two  were  con- 
versing quite  composedly,  but  tlie  surrounding  groups 
seemed  to  be  under  some  excitement. 

At  the  dispersion  of  the  gathering  at  the  Grove,  as  ^Ir. 
Norton  was  on  his  way  to  the  quiet  of  his  own  room,  i\[r. 
Dubois  had  presented  to  him  the  bearer  of  a  dispatch  from 
Frr'^ricton.  The  messenger  said  he  had  been  instructed 
to  announce  that  the  Provincial  Court  was  in  session  in  that 
city,  and  that  ft  complaint  had  been  lodged  with  the  grand 
jury  against  Mr.  Norton,  and  he  was  requested  to  meet 
the  charge  immediately. 

Mr.  Norton  was  surprised,  but  said  very  calmly  — 
•"  Can  you  inform  me,  sir,  what  the  charge  is  !  " 

*'  It  is  a  charge  for  having  preached  in  the  Province  of 
Brunswick,  without  a  license." 

"  Can  you  tell  me  by  whom  the  charge  was  brought?" 


< 

Est 

the 

tint 

stai 

and 

'J 

I 

licai 

aboi 

1 

and 

who 

ciiei 

pcrr 

intei 

whe 

(( 

go  I 
mea 
ther 
gitf 
to  h 
hull 
both 
(t 

to  tl 

six  1 
he^ 


m 


MliiAMICIII. 


153 


tlic  trio  remiiined/ 
/ant  of  the  crowd,] 

fed,"  at  length  ex- 
ulturc  which  such 
)uld  have  been  the 

but  it  is  the  solemn 

is  power." 

2/ve  chanted,"  said 

ic  in  silence,  they 
vhich  ]Mr.  Dubois 
lese  two  were  con- 
irroundlng  groups 

;lie  Grove,  as  Mr. 
lis  own  room,  i\[r. 
of  a  di!<pateh  from 
id  been  instructed 
s  in  session  in  that 
od  with  the  grand 
requested  to  meet 

cry  calmly  — 

larije  is  !  " 

in  the  Provluce  of 


2;e  was  brought  ?  " 


*•  By  the  reverend  Francis  DInsmoor,  a  clergyman  of  tho 

Establishod  Church,  of  the  parish  of ■ . 

"  Yes,  sir.  I  understand.  He  Is  your  neighbor  on 
the  other  side  of  the  river,  Mr.  Dubois.  Well,  sir,"  con- 
tinued Mr.  Norton,  "  I  suppose  you  have  just  arrived  and 
stand  in  need  of  refreshment.  I  will  confer  with  you,  by 
and  by." 

The  messenger  retraced  his  steps  towards  the  house. 
In  the  mean  time,  a  few  rough-looking  men  had  over- 
heard the  conversation,  taken  In  Its  Import,  and    now  came 
about  Mr.  Dubois  and  Mr.  Norton,  making  Inquiries. 

Tom  Iluuklns,  more  noted  for  profanity,  hard  drinking, 
and  giimbllng,  than  any  man  In  the  settlement,  and 
whom  Mr.  Norton  at  the  risk  of  making  him  a  violent 
enemy,  had  on  one  occasion  severely  reprehended  for  the 
pernicious  influence  he  exci-tcd  In  the  community,  —  hero 
Interposea  a  word  of  counsel.  He  was  just  speakin"', 
when  Adele,  Mr.  Somers,  and  John,  joined  the  group. 

"  Neow  of  I  may  be  so  bold,"  said  Tom,  "  I  would  n't 
go  anyst  the  cussed  court.  It's  nothin'  at  all,  but  the 
meanness  and  envy  o'  that  rowdy  priest  over  the  river 
there.  He  'a  jest  mad,  cos  the  people  come  over  here  to 
git  fodder  instid  o'  goln'  to  his  empty  corncrib.  They  like 
to  hear  yer  talk  better  than  they  do  him,  and  that 's  the 
hull  on  It.  I'd  let  the  condcmcd  critter  and  court  whizz, 
both  on  'era.     I  would  't  go  aynst  'em." 

"  But  Mr.  Ilunklns,"  said  Mr.  Norton,  "  I  must  attend 
to  this  matter.  I  am  exposed  to  a  fine  of  fifty  pounds  and 
six  months'  imprisonment,  for  breaking  a  law  enacted  by 
he  Assembly  of  His  Majesty's  Province." 


-i,   ) 


r!--^«-'t^.''i  Li'.-  ;-^' 


154 


MIUAMIOin. 


i 


II     I,' 


«•  I  '11  tell  ye  what  yc  can  do,  parson.  I'll  take  and 
put  ye  right  through  to  Charthain  this  very  night,  and  ye' 
ken  take  a  schooner  that  I  know  ia  going  to  sail  to-morrow 
for  Eastport.  That  'ill  land  yc  safe  in  the  State  of  Maine, 
where  ye  ken  stay  till  the  Court  i»  over,  and  the  fox  has 
gone  back  to  his  hole,  and  then  we  '11  give  ye  a  lift  back 
agin  and  ye  kca  go  on  with  yer  prcachin'." 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  kind  feeling  towards  me,  Mr. 
Ilunkins,  but  J.  must  go  to  Fredcricton.  The  case  is  just 
this.  I  knew,  before  I  came  to  Miramiehi,  that  the  gov- 
ernment was  not  particularly  favorable  to  dissenting  min- 
isters, and  also  that  the  Assembly  had  passed  this  law. 
But  I  had  heard  of  the  condition  of  this  people  and  felt 
constrained  to  come  here,  by  my  desire  to  serve  Christ,  my 
^Master  and  my  King.  By  so  doing,  I  took  all  the  risks  in 
the  case.  Now,  if  I,  for  conscience's  sake,  have  violated 
an  unjust  law,  I  am  willing  to  pay  the  penalty.  I  have 
not  wittingly  done  harm  to  any  of  His  Majesty's  subjects, 
or  endeavored  to  draw  them  away  from  their  loyalty.  I 
will  therefore  go  with  the  messenger  to  Fredericton  and 
meet  this  charge.  I  am  not  afraid  of  what  evil-minded 
men  can  do  unto  me." 

*'  That  is  right,  Mr.  Norton,"  exclaimed  Adele,  who 
had  been  listening  attentively  to  his  words.  "  Will  you 
not  go  with  him,  father?" 

After  a  moment'^  meditation,  Mr.  Dubois  replied,  "  If 
it  is  Mr.  Norton'j  wish.  I  have  a  friend  who  is  a  member 
of  the  Assembly.  A  favorable  statement  of  the  case  from 
him,  would  doubtless  have  much  weight  with  the  jury." 


woi 
exc 

]\ 

colL 

"C 

arra 

thoi 

migl 

abec 
(( 

whc] 

cisel 
(( 

Tl 

M 
earlj 

II 
upon 
nioti' 
concl 
belie' 
gosp( 
tlienc 
comn 
slept 

In 
blowi 
matte 


nt 


MinAsirmi. 


1.-35 


m.     I'll  take  and! 

very  night,  and  ye' 

J  to  sail  to-morrow 

he  State  of  Maine, 

r,  and  the  fox  has 

five  ye  a  lift  back 
»  » 

towards  me,  Mr. 
The  case  is  just 
ichi,  that  the  gov- 
to  dissenting  rain- 
1  passed  this  law. 
is  people  and  felt 

0  serve  Christ,  my 
ook  all  the  risks  in 
ake,  have  violated 
J  penalty.  I  have 
Majesty's  subjects, 

1  their  loyalty.  I 
o  Fredericton  and 
'  what  evil-minded 

[limed  Adele,  who 
srds.     "Will  you 

>uboi3  replied,  "  If 
d  who  is  a  member 
it  of  the  case  from 
;ht  with  the  jury." 


"  Thank  you,  sir,  thank  you.  Such  an  arrangement 
would  doubtless  be  of  great  service  to  mc.  I  should  be 
exceedingly  grateful  for  it." 

Micah,  who  had  been  hitherto  a  quiet  listener  to  the 
collofjuy,  now  gave  a  short,  violent  cou'gh,  and  eaid, 
"Captin',  it's  kinder  queer  I  should  happen  to  hev  an 
arrand  reouud  to  Fredericton  to-morrow.  But  I've  jest 
thought  that  as  long  as  I'm  a  goin'  to  be  in  the  place,  I 
might  as  well  step  in  afore  the  jury  and  say  what  I  know 
abeout  the  case." 

"  Thank  you,  Micah.     I  believe  you  have  been  present 
whenever  I  have  discoursed  to  our  friends,  and  know  pre- 
cisely what  I  have  said  to  them." 
"  Well,  I  guess  I  dew,  pooty  nigh." 
The  affair  being  thus  arranged,  the  party  separated. 
Mr.  Norton  informed  the  messenger  of   his  intention, 
early  in  the  morning,  to  depart  with  him  for  Fredericton. 

He  then  retired  to  his  room,  spent  an  hour  in  reflectin'^ 
upon  the  course  he  had  adopted,  examined  faithfully  the 
motives  that  influenced  him,  and  finally  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  he  was  in  the  riglit  path.  He  firmly 
believed  God  had  sent  him  to  Miraraichi  to  preach  the 
gospel,  and  resolved  that  he  would  not  be  driven  from 
tlicnce  by  any  power  of  men  or  evil  spirits.  He  then 
committed  himself  to  the  care  of  the  Almighty  Being,  and 
slept  securely  under  the  wing  of  his  love. 

In  the  mean  time,  there  was  a  high  breeze  of  excitement 
blowing  through  the  settlement,  the  people  taking  up  the 
matter  and  making  common  cause  with  Mr.  Norton.     Ho 


I'' 


„^0>t.f^'^^ 


\  \ 


i.'l 


4;,'' 

m 

I'  f\ ' 
i, ' 


ITH', 


MIUAMIcril. 


Boemedt'J  hiivc  fiiirly  won  their  good  will,  rtlthoiis'i  he  lind  'I 
not  yet  imliu'cd  tliciu,  ex<n'[)t  iu  a  few  instjinccs,  to  rofonn 
their  haliits  o'.'  life.     Tliey    ventilated    their    indignation 

against  the  inifortunutc  clergyman  uf  the  parish  of — , 

in  no  mcaaurcd  terms. 

There  was,  however,  one  exception  to  the  kind  feeling 
manifested  by  the  settlers,  towards  the  missionary  at  this 
time,  in  the  person  of  Mrs.  McNah.  She  informed  Mrs. 
Campbell,  as  they  wvsc  discussing  the  matter  before  retiring 
for  the  night,  tliat  it  was  just  what  she  had  expected. 

•'  Na  gude  comes  o'  scch  hurry-flurry  kind  o'  doctrenos 
as  that  man  preaches.  I  dinna  believe  pn-^sona  can  be 
carried  into  the  kingdom  o'  hcaveo  on  a  wharlwind,  as 
he'd  have  us  to  think." 

••Well,"  said  Mrs.  Campbell,  who  had  been  much 
impressed  with  Mr.  Norton's  teachings,  •'  I  don't  think 
there's  much  likelihood  of  many  folks  round  here,  bein 
kerried  that  way,  or  any  other,  into  the  kingdom.  And  I 
shall  always  bless  that  man  for  his  kindness  to  the  children 
when  they  were  so  sick,  and  for  the  consoling  way  in  which 
he  talked  to  me  at  that  time." 

•'  Ilis  doctrenes  are  every  way  delytarious,  and  you'll 
find  that 's  the  end  on 't,"  said  Mrs.  McNab. 

To   this   dogmatic    remark  Mrs.  Campbell    made    no 

reply. 

Sittin-T  in  the  Madonna  room,  that  evening,  John  re- 
marked to  Mr.  Somers,  "  I  have  a  growing  admiration  for 
your  missionary.  Did  you  notice  what  he  said,  in  reply  to 
the  man  who  counselled  him  to  fly  into  Maine  and  so  evade 


the 
wh 

tha 

tlid 

tha 
cou 


rr?. 


I,  rtltliouffli  ho  had  'I 
*t;inoi;.s,  to  reform 
thoir    iritligrmtion 
pui'Iiih  of  ", 

1  the  kind  fouling 
niiffsionnry  nt  this 
lie  informed  Mrs. 
ittcr  before  retiring 
uul  expected, 
kind  o'  doctrenca 
'e  pu.-'sons  can  be 
I  a  wharlvvind,  as 

had  been  much 
,  ♦'  I  don't    think 

round  here,  bein 
kiui^dom.  And  I 
less  to  the  children 
jling  way  in  which 

arious,  and  you'll 

Nab. 

impbell    made    no 

evening,  John  re- 
ining admiration  for 
he  said,  in  reply  to 
Maine  and  so  evade 


AlIUAMICUI. 


167 


llic  charge  brought  against  him?  Small  things  sometimes 
suggest  groat  ones.  T  was  reminded  of  what  Luther  said, 
wlion  cited  before  the  diet  of  Worms,  and  whon  his  frlonda 
iidvlsod  him  not  to  go.  '  1  am  lawfully  called  to  appear  n 
that  city,  and  thitlier  I  >vill  go,  in  the  name  of  the  Lord, 
thdiigh  aa  many  dcviks  aa  tilea  upon  the  houaca  were 
as.-oinblod  against  mc.' " 

"  Ay,  John.     There  arc  materials  in    the  character  of 
tliut   man   for  the  making   of    another   Luther.     Truth, 
courage,  power,  —  he  haa  them  all." 
U 


u 


r 


a.L't        ■■■■     U.^ 


.1     I'i 


(  ' 


fT* 


i  I'l 

'  ,-'1 

•  '1', 

il  fit? 

'I  Hi        I 

„  I        1 


U 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


THE   LIEUTRNANT-OOVKRNOR, 


The  next  morning  at  an  early  hour,  Mr.  Dubois  and 
Mr.  Norton,  accompanietl  by  the  bearer  of  the  despatch, 
started  for  Fredcricton.  They  were  joined  by  Micah, 
whoso  alleged  urgent  business  in  that  eity  proved  to  bo 
nothing  more  nor  less  than  to  lend  his  aid  towards  getting 
the  missionary  out  of  what  ho  railed  "  a  bad  lix  !  " 

Proceeding  up  the  Miramichi  Kiver  ashort  distance,  they 
came  to  the  portage,  where  travelling  through  the  wilder- 
ness twenty  miles  to  the  Nashvvauk,  they  passed  down 
that  stream  to  its  junction  with  tho  St.  John's  Kiver,  op- 
posite Fredcricton. 

After  throwing  off  the  dust  of  travel  and  resting  some- 
what from  their  fatigue,  the  two  gentlemen  first  named, 
went  to  call  on  Col.  Allen,  the  friend  of  whom  Mr. 
Dubois  had  spoken,  who  was  a  resident  of  the  Capital. 

He  was  a  man  of  wealth  and  consideration  in  the 
province.  Having  listened  attentively  to  the  statement 
made  by  Mr.  Dubois  respecting  the  arrest  of  Mr.  Norton, 
he  promised  to  do  all  in  his  power  to  secure  for  him  a  fair 
trial. 


he 

lm|i 
cliiii 
hiul 
a  f( 
cou! 

« 

lenc 

fact 

wlii 

for 

youi 

Goi 

situ 

extc 

nier 

the 

rive 

1 
groi 
tho 
offic 
a  CO 
toh 

I 
itinf 
a  lie 


MIUAtnCitl. 


159 


tNOR. 

',  Mr.  Dubois  and 
ir  of  the  (Icspiitch, 
joined  by  Mioah, 
city  proved  to  bo 
id  towards  getting 
,  bad  lix  I  " 
iliort  distance,  they 
hrough  the  wildcr- 
thcy  passed  down 
John's  Kivcr,  oj)- 

and  resting  eome- 
cnien  first  named, 
id  of  whom  Mr. 
of  the  Capital, 
isideration  in  the 
to  the  statement 
9t  of  Mr.  Norton, 
Jure  for  him  a  fair 


AUhouj;li  a  hi;,fh  churtlimnu  in  principh)  and  feeling, 
ho  Wtt8  yet  candid  and  upright  in  his  judgments,  and 
happened,  moreover,    to    be    well     acquainted    with    the 

character   of  the  clergyman    of  the    parish  of ,  who 

had  brought  the  charge  against  jNIr.  Nort(m.  lie  made 
a  few  inquiries  rosj)ecting  the  evidence  the  missionary 
could  produce  of  good  character  in  his  native  State. 

"  It  will  be  well,"  he  remarked,  to  call  on  his  Excel- 
lency, the  Governor,  and  put  him  in  possession  of  theso 
facts.  It  ia  pocjililo  the  case  may  take  some  shape  in 
which  his  action  may  bo  called  for.  It  will  do  no  harm 
for  him  to  have  a  knowledge  of  the  circumstances  from 
yourselvea,  gentlemen.  ^Vill  you  accompany  me  to  tho 
Government  House  ?  " 

The  Government  House,  a  largo  building  of  stone,  ia 
situated  near  the  northern  entrance  to  the  city.  Witii  its 
extensive  wings,  beautiful  grounds  and  military  appoint- 
ments, it  presents  an  imposing  appearance.  In  the  rear  of 
the  mansion,  a  fine  park  slopes  down  to  the  bank  of  tho 
river,  of  which  it  commands  frequent  and  enchanting  views. 

Tho  three  gentlemen  alighted  at  the  entrance  to  tho 
grounds,  opening  from  the  broad  street,  and  after  passing 
tlie  sentry  were  conducted  by  a  page  to  the  Governor's 
office.  His  Excellency  shortly  appeared  and  gave  Ij^tu 
a  courteous  welcome.  In  brief  terras  Col.  Allen  prc-.cMiod 
to  him  the  case. 

The  Governor  remarked  in  reply,  that  the  law  prohib- 
iting persons  from  publicly  preaching,  or  teaching,  without 
a  license,  had  been  passed  many  years  ago,  in  consequence 


-it^r'^;a*r*s*p8#rai*>»-;44f-««!i-i»v?-'. 


t 

*       't 


■i-fe'l 


iiiVJk': 


5   ;r:' 


i    s 


:»^ii::1 
l|:i 


160 


MIUAJirCIII. 


of  disturbances  made  by  a  set  of  fanatics,  who  proniul- 
gatod  among  the  lower  classes  certain  extravagant  dogmas 
by  which  they  .eie  led  on  even  to  commit  murder,  think- 
ing they  v.'cre  doing  God  service.  The  purpose  of  the  law, 
he  said,  having  been  thus  generally  understood,  few,  if  any 
clergymen,  belonging  cither  to  the  Established  Church  or 
to  Dissenting  congregations,  had  applied  for  a  license,  and 
this  was  the  first  complaint  to  his  knowledge,  that  had  been 
entered,  alleging  a  violation  of  the  law.  He  said,  also, 
that  from  the  statement  Col.  Allen  had  made,  he  appre- 
hended no  danger  to  jNIr.  Norton,  as  he  thought  the  charge 
brought  against  him  could  not  be  maintained. 

'*  I  advise  you,  sir,"  said  he,  turning  to  the  missionary, 
"  to  go  to  the  Secretary's  office  and  take  the  oath  of  alle- 
giance to  the  government.  Mr.  Dubois  states  you  are 
exerting  a  good  influence  at  ]\Iiramichi.  I  will  see  that  you 
receive  no  further  annoyance." 

"  I  thank  your  Honor,"  Mr.  Norton  replied,  "  for  your 
kind  assurances,  and  I  declare  to  you,  sir,  that  I  ha,e  the 
most  friendly  feelings  towards  Ilis  Majesty's  subjects  and 
government,  as  I  have  given  some  proof  in  coming  to 
labor  at  Miramichi.  But,  sir,  I  cannot  conscientiously  take 
an  oath  of  allegiance  to  your  government,  when  ray  love 
and  duty  are  pledged  to  another.  I  earnestly  hope  that 
the  present  amicable  relations  may  ever  continue  to  exist 
between  the  two  powers,  but,  sir,  should  any  conflict  arise 
between  them,  the  impropriety  of  my  having  taken  such 
an  oath  would  become  too  evident." 

"  You  are  right.     You  are  right,  my  good  sir,"  replied 


a 


■;:Hii'-pil 


MIUA3IICI1I. 


161 


latics,  who  proniul-; 
extravagant,  dogmas 
imit  inurder,  think- 
purposc  of  the  law, 
erstood,  few,  if  any 
tablished  Church  or 
d  for  a  license,  and 
edge,  that  had  been 
w.  He  said,  also, 
id  made,  he  appre- 
thought  the  charge 
ained. 

to  the  missionary, 
:e  the  oath  of  allc- 
)ois  states  you  are 

I  will  eee  that  you 

replied,  "  for  your 
3ir,  that  I  ha ,e  the 
esty's  subjects  and 
roof  in  coming  to 
!onscientiously  take 
snt,  when  my  love 
arnestly  hope  that 
r  continue  to  exist 
d  any  conflict  arise 
having  taken  such 

'  good  sir,"  replied 


the  Governor.  <«  I  promise  you  that  as  long  as  you  con- 
tinue your  work  in  the  rational  mode  you  have  already 
pursued,  making  no  effort  to  excite  treasonable  feelings 
towards  His  Majesty's  government,  you  shall  not  be  inter- 
fered with." 

His  Excellency  then  made  numerous  inquiries  of  Mr. 
Dubois  and  i\rr.  Norton,  respecting  the  condition  of  society, 
business,  means  of  education  and  religious  worship  in  the 
.Miramichi  country.  He  already  knew  Mr.  Dubois  by 
reputation,  and  was  gratified  to  have  this  opportunity  of 
meeting  him.  He  inquired  of  the  missionary  how  he 
hajipened  to  light  upon  New  Brunswick  as  the  scene  of  his 
religious  labors,  and  listened  to  Mr.  Norton's  account  of  his 
"  call  "  to  Miramachi  with  unaffected  interest. 

The  next  day  the  case  was  brought  before  the  Jury. 
Tlie  charge  having  been  read,  Mr.  Dubois  appeared  in 
behalf  of  the  missionary,  testifying  to  his  good  character 
and  to  the  nature  of  his  spiritual  teachings.  He  also  pre- 
sented to  the  Jury  three  commissions  from  the  Governor 
of  the  State  of ,  which  Mr.  Norton  had  in  his  pos- 
session, one  of  them  being  a  commission  as  Chaplain  of 
the  Regiment  to  which  he  belonged.  Inquiry  bein"- 
made  whether  Mr.  Norton's  preaching  was  calculated  to 
(lisaffect  subjects  towards  the  government,  no  evidence  was 
found  to  that  effect.  On  the  contrary,  witnesses  were 
brought  to  prove  the  reverse. 

Mr.  Mummychog,  aware  before  he  left  Miramichi,  that 
a  number  of  his  compeers  in  that  region,  who  had  been  in 

the  habit  of  coming  to  the  Grove   to  hear  Mr.  Norton 
140 


-r,!j 


..w*5*»'»'R^^f^'«ft"^"»«S*e.>i8Si!?»3te(e!3»H»iiw«w 


163 


MiR^unciu. 


;ii'-,'i-; 


m 


Hi' 


"fM, 


discourse,  were  just  now  at  Frederlcton,  on  lumbering 
business,  had  been  beating  up  these  as  recruits  for  the  oc- 
casion, and  now  brought  forward  quite  an  overpowering 
weight  of  evidence  in  favor  of  the  defendant.  These  mer 
testified  that  he  had  preached  to  them  the  importance  ot 
fulfilling  their  duties  as  citizens,  telling  them,  that  unless 
they  were  good  subjects  to  the  civil  government,  they 
could  not  be  good  subjects  in  Christ's  kingdom.  They 
testified,  also,  that  they  had  frequently  heard  him  pray  in 
public,  for  the  health,  happiness,  and  prosperity  of  His 
Majesty,  and  for  blessings  on  the  Lord  Lieutenant-Gov- 
ernor. 

After  a  few  minutes  of  conversation,  the  Jury  dismissed 
the  charge. 

The  party  retired,  much  gratified  at  the  favorable  con- 
clusion of  what  might,  under  other  circumstances,  have 
proved  to  the  missionary  an  annoying  affiiir.  JNIr.  Norton 
warmly  expressed  his  grutitud-  n  Mr.  Dubois,  as  having 
been  the  main  instrument,  in  set  :  ring  this  result.  He 
also  cordially  thanked  JVIicah  and  his  friends,  for  their 
prompt  efforts  in  his  behalf. 

"  Twant  much  of  a  chore,  any  heow,"  said  Micah.  "  I 
never  could  stan'  by  and  see  any  critter  put  upon  by 
another  he'  d  done  no  harm  to,  and  I  never  will." 

As  they  returned  to  the  hotel,  Mr.  Dubois  remarked 
that  this  journey  to  the  Capital,  after  all,  might  not 
be  without  good  residtd. 

"  You  made,"  he  said  to  Mr.  Norton, «« an  extremely  fa- 
vorable impression  on  the  minds  of  several  gentlemen,  who 


M1RA3UCIII. 


1G3 


1,  on  lumbering 
cruita  for  the  oc- 
an  overpowering 
int.  These  mer 
he  importance  ot 
hem,  that  unless 
ovcrnment,  they 
kingdom.  They 
card  him  pray  in 
arosperity  of  His 
Lieutenant-Gov- 

ic  Jury  dismissed 

le  favorable  con- 
3urastanccs,  have 
ir.  JNIr.  Norton 
)ubois,  as  having 
this  result.  He 
friends,  for  their 

said  Micah.  "I 
er  put  upon  by 
ir  will." 

)ubois  remarked 
aU,  might  not 

'  an  extremely  fa- 
1  gentlemen,  who 


wield  power  in  the  province,  and  should  you  be  subjected  to 
future  persecutions,  you  will  probably  be  able  to  secure 
their  protection." 

"  Possibly  —  possibly.  I  am  grateful,  if  I  have  in  any 
way  secured  the  good  will  of  those  gentlemen.  I  was  par- 
ticularly impressed  by  their  dignity,  affability,  and  readiness 
to  oblige  yourself.  But,  my  dear  sir,  it  is  better  to  trust 
iu  the  Lord  than  to  put  confidence  in  prmces." 


l( 


,„  ^Mtill99^^'W'^^^^^&9:-*ltin'33!Wlfv:%:ismrirf'-y"^i^'-i,  ,•, :, 


CHAPTER  XX. 


i^  i 


i 


r, 


;  ■* 


'     ill. 


i-f  hi 


MR.  LANSDOWNE   SUBMITS   TO   THE   INEVITABLK. 

In  the  meanwhile,  a  change  had  come  upon  John  Lans- 
downe.  Only  a  few  weeks  ago,  he  waa  a  careless  youth, 
of  keen  and  vigorous  intellectual  powers,  satiated  with 
books  and  tired  of  college  walls,  with  the  boy  spirit  in  the 
ascendant  within  him.  His  eye  was  wide  02)en  and 
observant,  and  his  ringing  laugh  was  so  merry,  that  it 
brought  an  involuntary  smile  upon  any  one  who  might 
chance  to  hear  its  rich  peals.  His  talk  waa  rapid,  gay,  and 
brilliant,  with  but  the  slightest  dash  of  sentiment,  and  his 
manner  frank  and  fearless. 

But  now  his  bearing  had  become  quiet  and  dignified  ;  his 
conversation  was  more  thoughtful  and  deep-flowing,  less 
dashing  and  free  ;  he  spoke  in  a  lower  key  ;  his  laugh  was 
Ipsa  loud,  but  far  sweeter  and  more  thrilling ;  his  eyes  had 
grown  larger,  darker,  deeper,  and  eoraetimes  they  were 
shadowed  with  a  soft  and  tender  misi,  i:ot  wont  to  over- 
spread them  before.  The  angel  of  Love  had  touched  him, 
and  opened  a  new  and  living  spring  in  his  heart.  Boiling 
and  bubbling  in  its  hidden  recess,  an  ethereal  vapor  mounted 
up  and  mantled  those  blazing  orbs  in  a  ctlni  and  dreamy 
veil.     A  charmed  wand  had  touched  every  sense,  every 


m 


MlKAMICni. 


1G5 


INKVITADLK. 

upon  John  Lnns- 
a  careless  youth, 
Ts,  satiated  with 
;  boy  spirit  in  the 
wide  open  and 
30  merry,  that  it 
T  one  who  might 
as  rapid,  gay,  and 
jntiment,  and  his 

and  dignified ;  his 
deep-flowing,  less 
!y  ;  his  laugh  was 
ing  ;  his  eyes  had 
etimes  they  were 
:ot  wont  to  over- 
had  touched  him, 
is  heart.  Boiling 
al  vapor  mounted 
dim  and  dreamy 
ery  sense,  every 


power  of  his  being,  and  held  him  fast  in  a  rapturous  thrall, 
from  which  he  did  not  wish  to  be  released.  Under  the 
siiell  of  this  enchantment,  the  careless  hoy  had  passed  into 
the  reflective  man. 

Stories  are  told  of  knights  errant,  in  the  times  of  ]\rcrlin 
and  the  good  King  Arthur,  who,  while  ranging  the  world 
ill    quest    of  adventures,  were  bewitched  by  lovely  wood 
fairies  or  were  lulled  into  delicious  slumber  by  some  syren's 
song,  or  were  shut  up  in  pleasant  durance  in  enchanted 
castles.     Accounts  of  similar  character  are  found,  even  in 
the  pages  of  grave    chroniclers  of   modern    date,  to  say 
nothing  of  what  books  of  fiction  tell,  and  what  we  observe 
with  our  own  .;>es,  in  the  actual  world.     The  truth  is, 
Love  smites  his  victims,  just  when    and    where  he  finds 
tliem.    Mr.  Lansdowne's  case  then,  is  not  an  unprecedented 
one.     The  keen  Damascus  blade,  used  to  pierce  our  hero 
and  bring  him  to  the  pitiful  condition  of  the  conquered,  had 
been  placed  in  the   hand  of  Adele.     Whetlrer   Love  in- 
tended to  employ  that  young   lady  in  healing    the  cruel 
wound  she  had  made,  remains  to  be  seen. 

At  the  beginning  of  thci:-  acquaintance,  they  had  found 
a  common  ground  of  interest  in  the  love  of  music. 

They  boH  sang  well.  Adele  played  the  piano  and  Joha 
discoursed  on  the^ute.  From  these  employments,  they 
passed  to  books.  They  rummaged  Mr.  Dubois's  library 
and  re-d  together,  elected  pasin  'es  from  favorite  authors. 
Occasionally,  John  gave  her  little  episodes  of  his  past  life, 
his  childish,  his  school,  and  college  days.  In  return,  Adele 
told  him  of  her  term  at  Halifax  in  the  Ojavent;  of  tho 


i  ill 


ji ; 


i(| 


W-: 


_,  .ffijr-j, 


■*.     *>''»OT»lir»'««'"T.-«'>'.--'-- ><!-•>»-■< 


7  r 

fb      'l 


w^^.  .. 


1G6 


MniAMICIU. 


I  I 


1 1 


i    ?l 


t      I 


i: 


4 

i 


■>     i 


\  SI    t 


If 

1, 


1  <p 


•  .Ur\ 


routin.3  of  life  and  study  there;  <  f  her  rlend-ihlpa.  ar)  1 
very  j>rivateiy,  of  t'ao  duuiist  sh'-  tcnk,  '  "ule  lierc,  t  . 
what  fche  called  i,ho  Frpcrstilk>nE,  the  mummeries  and  iuul- 
atry  ol'  the  Catht  llo  flmrch. 

When  ]Mr.  Soia.'s  had  acquired  strength  enough  ft)r 
exercise  on  horseback,  MrH.  Dubois,  Adeie,  an'l  John  wor< 
accustomed  to  accomp:'ry  him.  Daily,  about  an  ho  ir  after 
breakfast,  the  little  party  might  have  bet;a  si  fitting  off 
for  a  canter  through  the  forc-t.  Xn  the  * » cning,  the  group 
was  joiaed  by  Mr.  Dubois  and  the  missionary.  The  atmos- 
phei-e  being  exceedingly  dry,  both  by  day  and  night,  they 
often  sat  and  talked  by  moonliglit,  on  a  balcony,  built  over 
th«  large,  porch-like  entrance  to  the  main  door  of  the  house. 

Thus  John  and  Adele  daily  grew  into  a  more  familiar 
acquaintance. 

During  the  absence  of  Mr.  Dubois  at  Fredericton,  Mr. 
Somera  announced  to  John  that  ho  felt  himself  strong 
enough  to  undertake  the  ride  through  the  wilderness,  and 
proposed  that,  as  soon  as  their  host  returned,  they  should 
start  on  their  journey  home. 

"With  increasing  strength,  Mr.  Somers*  had  become 
impatient  to  return  to  the  duties  he  had  so  summarily 
forsaken. 

He  wished  to  test,  in  active  life,  his  j^ower  to  maintain 
the  new  principles  he  had  espoused  and  to  ascertain  if  the 
nobler  and  holier  hopes  that  now  animated  him,  would  give 
him  peace,  strength,  and  buoyancy,  amid  the  temptations 
and  trials  of  the  future. 

John,  for  several  days,  had  been  living  in  a  delicious 


revc 

awa 

aud 

inwi 

indl( 

Soin 

that 

inon 

But 

once 

agita 

hisn 

Ai 

hand 

Ilis  f 

will 

ence. 

tainlj 

rived 

enjoy 

tion  ! 

with 

olie  a 

could 

doubt 

She  c 

able  t 

she  M 

Some 


MIRAMICm. 


167 


rlendihipa.  anl 
,  'v'iilc  acre,  to 
mmeries  and  itiol- 

;ngtU  enough  for 
le.anfl  John  were 
bout  an  hour  after 
iO  8(  fittin,;^  off 
^  ening,  the  group 
lary.  The  atmos- 
y  and  night,  they 
lalcony,  built  over 
door  of  the  house. 
>  a  more  familiar 

Fredericton,  Mr. 
t  himself  strong 
e  wilderness,  and 
rned,  they  should 

lers  had  become 
lad  so  summarily 

^ower  to  maintain 
to  ascertain  if  the 
1  him,  would  give 
1  the  temptations 


ig  in  a  delicious 


reverie,  and  was  quite  startled  by  the  proposition.  Though 
aware  how  anxiously  his  parents  were  awaiting  his  return, 
and  that  there  was  no  reasonable  excuse  for  farther  delay,  ho 
inwardly  repudiated  the  thought  of  departure.  He  even 
indicated  a  wish  to  delay  the  journey  beyond  the  time  Mr. 
Somers  had  designated,  A  piercing  look  of  inquiry  from 
that  gentleman  recalled  him  to  his  senses,  and  after  a 
moment  of  hesitation,  he  assented  to  the  arrano-ement. 
But  the  beautiful  dream  was  broken.  He  was  thrown  at 
once  into  a  tumult  of  emotion.  Unwilling  to  expose  his 
agitation  to  the  observation  of  others,  he  went  directly  to 
his  room  and  locked  himself  in. 

After  sitting  half  an  hour  with  his  face  buried  in  his 
hands,  the  chaos  of  his  soul  formed  itself  into  definite  shape. 
His  first  clear  thought  was  this,'— «'  Without  Adele^-my  life 
will  be  a  blank.     She  is  absolutely  necessary  to  my  exist- 
ence.    I  must  win  her."     A  very  decided  conclusion  cer- 
tainly, for  a  young  gentleman  to  reach,  who  when  he  ar- 
rived at  this  house,  but  a  few  weeks  before,  seemed  to  be 
enjoying  a  liberal  share  of  hope  and  happiness.     The  ques- 
tion arose.  Does  she  care  for  me?    Does  she  regard  me 
with  any  special  interest  beyond  the  kindness  and  courtesy 
ohe  accords  to  all  her  father's  guests  ?     On  this  point,  he 
could  not  satisfy  himself.      He  was  torn  by  a  conflict  of 
doubt,  hope,  and  fear.     He  thought  her  not  averse  to  him. 
She  conversed,  sang,  and  rode  with  him  as  if  it  were  agree- 
able to  her.     Indeed  she  seemed  to  enjoy  his  society.     But 
she  was  equally  pleased  to  corveise  and  ride  with  Mr. 


Somer"  and  good  Mr.  Norton. 


He  was  unable  to  deter- 


l!     I 


!   •    ;ii: 


1G8 


MIKAMICTIT. 


mine    tiic    sentiments  slio  really   clierislicd  nnd  rcmiiincd 
tossed  to  and  fro  in  painful  suspense  and  iin;itati()n. 

A  couple  of  -hours  passed  and  found  hini  in  the  same 
state.  Mr.  Somers  came  and  tapi)cd  upon  his  door.  Un- 
willing to  awaken  a  suspicion  of  any  unusual  discomposure, 
John  opened  it  and  let  him  in. 

«<  Hope  I  don't  intrude,"  said  Mr.  Somers,  *'  but  I  want 
you  to  look  at  the  horse  Mumtnychog  has  brought  for  me.'' 
"  Ah  I  yes,"  said  John,  and  seizing  his  hat,  he  accom- 
panied his  friend  to  the  stables. 

T  (  1'  ^".v^rvationa  over,  they    returned  to  the  house. 
«  y.Ai  oav.  ]v.  "  a  fit  of  solitude,  quite  unusuid,  my  boy," 
said  hh.  ;»^oniOiri,  planting  his  hand  on  John's  shoulder. 

"Yes,  quiiu.  For  a  novelty,  I  have  been  collecting  my 
thouglits."  John  meant  to  speak  in  a  gay,  indifferent  tone, 
and  thought  he  had  done  so,  but  this  was  a  mistake. 
IJosides  he  had  in  fact  a  decidedly  conscious  look. 
"If  you  have  any  mouicntous  affair  on  hand,  I  advise 
you  to  wait,  until  you  reach  /lomr.  before  you  decide  upon 
it,  my  boy,"  said  Mr.  Somers,  with  a  light  laugh,  but  a 
strong  emphasis  upon  the  word,  home. 

And  he  passed  up-stairs,  leaving  /ohn,  standing  bewil- 
dered in  the  hall-door. 

"Ah!  Ked  has  discovered  it  all,"  said  he  to  himself. 
But  he  was  too  much  occupied  with  other  thoughts  to  be 
annoyed  by  it  now.  • 

Mr.  Somers's  last  remark  had  turned  the  course  of  his 
meditations  gomcwhat.  Uv  ))cgan  to  question  what  opinion 
his  parents  might  fiavc  in  regard  to  the  sentiments  he  en- 


tcrtai 
oiido! 
him  I 
withi 

Nt 
think 
choic 

Bu 
of  SUI 
rccen 
a  ma 
being 
he  CO 
to  raf 

It 
pecte 
oppoi 
apprc 
Ilour 
expec 
of  ol( 

So 
him  1 
menti 
in  he 
the  p 
he  ca 


J^^s^s-  XTtrt-^ 


MIltAMIClIl. 


1C9 


icd  nnd  rcmiilncd 

a;i;itiVtion. 

him  in  the  same 
on  Ilia  door.  Un- 
ual  discomposure, 

icra,  *'  but  I  want 
3  brought  for  inc.'' 
his  hat,  he  accom- 

led  to  the  house. 
unusuiU,  my  boy," 
Fohn's  shoulder. 
)een  collecting  my 
y,  indifferent  tone, 
X8  a  mistake, 
acious  look, 
on  hand,  I  advise 
e  you  decide  upon 
li;flit  laugh,  but  a 

m,  standing  bewil- 

;aid  he  to  himself, 
thcr  thoughts  to  be 

d  the  course  of  his 

cation  what  opinion 

sentiments  he  en- 


tertained towards  Adelc,  and  the  plan  he  had  formed  of 
ciuleavoring  to  secure  her  love.  lie  knew,  they  considered 
lilui  as  yet  hardly  out  of  boyhood.  Ho  had  indeed,  until 
witliin  a  few  weeks,  looked  upon  himself  in  that  light. 

Not  yet  freed  from  college  halls,  —  would  they  not 
think  him  foolish  and  precipitate?  Would  they  approve  hw 
choice  ? 

But  these  queries  and  others  of  like  character  ho  disposed 
of  summarily  and  declaivoly.  He  felt  that,  no  matter  how 
recently  he  had  passed  the  limits  of  boyhood  nnd  become 
a  man,  it  was  no  boy's  passion  that  now  swayed  his  whole 
being,  it  seemed  to  him  that,  should  ho  make  the  effort, 
he  could  not  expel  it  from  his  soul.  But  he  did  not  wish 
to  make  the  effort.     Adele  was  worthy  the  love  of  any  man . 

It  had  been  his  fortune  to  find  a  jewel,  when  he  least  ex- 
pected It.  Why  should  he  not  avail  himself  of  the  golden 
opportunity  and  secure  the  treasure?  Would  Ha  parents 
approve  his  choice?  Certainly,  Adelo  waa  *'  beat  rful  as  the 
Ilourles  and  wise  as  Zobeide."  Considerations  of  policy  and 
expediency,  which  sometimes  appear  on  the  menral  horizon 
of  older  people,  were  quite  unknown  to  our  yoimg  hero. 

So  he  returned  to  the  only  aspect  of  the  cnse  that  gave 
him  real  disquiet.  He  had  fears  respecting  Adele'a  senti- 
ments towards  himself,  and  doubts  of  his  ability  to  inspire 
In  her  a  love  equal  to  his  own.  But  he  must  be  'oft  for 
the  present  to  adjust  himself  to  his  new  sltuatloa  as  best 
he  can. 

16 


iii 


_^Jt:'>ft 


."■A"»*>5rn-<j- 


5    1 


II  .< 


Ill 


i<\. 


'ii! 


ii 


I 


!  i 


ilia; 


mf 


e  \»i 


CHAPTER  X:.«.I. 


TROUBLKD    HEAIITS. 


On  the  afternoon  of  the  day  following,  Adelc  was'eit- 
ing  alone  in  the  parlor.  She  held  a  hook  in  her  hand,  but 
evidently  it  did  not  much  interest  her,  as  her  eyes  wan- 
dered continually  from  its  pages  and  rested,  abstractedly, 
upon  any  object  they  happened  to  meet. 

She  felt  lonjly,  and  wondered  why  Mr.  Lansdownc  did 
not,  as  usual  at  that  hour,  come  to  r.^.  parlor.  Slio 
thought  how  vacant  and  sad  her  life  would  be,  after  he  and 
Mr.  Somera  had  departed  from  Miramichi.  She  queried 
whether  dhe  should  ever  meet  them  again  ;  whether,  indeed, 
either  of  them,  after  a  short  time,  would  ever  think  of  the 
acqup.intances  they  had  formed  here,  except  when  recalled 
by  some  accident  of  meniory,  or  association.  She  feared 
they  might  wholly  forget  all  these  scenes,  fraught  with  so 
much  interest  and  pleasure  to  her,  and  that  fear  took  pos- 
session of  her  heart  and  made  her  almost  miserable.  She 
atrove  to  turn  her  mind  upon  her.  favorite  project  of  return- 
ing with  her  ]:. rents,  to  France.  But,  notwitltstanding 
her  efforts,  her  ;h'.;ights  lingered  around  the  departing 
gentlemen,  and  tbd  close  of  her  acquaintance  with  them. 


the 
in  I 
•Tal. 
upo 
darl 
fci 
nod 
onc( 
mot 

SOIIJI 

(larl, 

eye 

liitli( 

By< 

very 

a  str 

v'th 

II 

of   01 

trcm 

nnd 
One 
novic 
partii 
by  th 

Adel( 


\  W0' 


w 


•«. 


MIUAMICm. 


171 


ig,  Adelc  was'eit- 

)k  in  her  hand,  but 

as  her  eyes  Avan- 

istcd,  abstractedly, 

Ir.  Lansdownc  did 
!•;„.  parlor.  She 
dd  be,  after  he  and 
ichi.  She  queried 
;  whether,  indeed, 
1  ever  think  of  the 
cept  when  recalled 
ition.  She  feared 
!8,  fraught  with  so 
;hat  fear  took  pos- 
3t  miserable.  She 
3  project  of  return- 
if  notwitltstanding 
ind  the  departing 
itance  with  them. 


Suddenly  she  heard  Mr.  Lansdownc's  step  npproaclilng 
tlic  room.  Conscious  that  her  lic.irt  was  at  this  moment 
ill  licr  eyes,  siie  hastily  threw  tlio  book  upon  tUo.  tubb. 
'J'aking  her  embroidery,  she  bent  her  attention  closely 
upon  it,  thus  veiling  the  tell-talo  orbs,  with  their  long 
dark  lashes. 

She  looked  up  a  moment,  as  he  entered,  to  give  him  a 
nod  of  recognition.     A  flash  of  lightning  will  reveal  at 
once  the  whole  i)araphernalia  of  a  room,  even  to  its  re- 
motest corners  ;  or  diHclose  the  scenery  of  an  entire  land- 
scape, in  its  minutest  details,  each  previously  wrapt  by  t.. , 
darkness  in  perfect  mystery ;  so,  one  single  glance  of  the 
oye  may  unveil  and  discover  a  profound  secret,  that  has 
liltlierto  never  been  indicated,  by  cither  word  or  motion. 
By  that  quick  glance,  Adele  saw  Mr.  Lansdov^he's  face, 
very  pale  with  the  struggle  he  had  just  gone  through,  and 
a  strange  V  lit  glowing  from  his  eyes,  that  caused  her  to 
\ -'thdraw  her  own  iraraeiliately. 

Tier  heart  beat  rapidly,—  she  was  conscious  that  a  tide 
of  Timsoii  was  creeping  up  to  hor  cheek,  and  felt  herself 
tremulous  In  every  limb,  as  Mr.  Lansdowne  approached 
nnd  drew  a  seat  near  her.  But  pride  came  to  her  aid. 
One  strong  effort  of  the  will,  and  the  young  creature, 
novice  as  she  was  in  the  arts  of  society,  succeeded  in 
partially  cohering  the  flutter  and  agitation  of  spirit  caused- 
by  the  sudden  discovery  of  her  lover's  secret. 

"When   do  you    expect    your    father's   return,   Miss 
Adele  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Lansdowne. 
•' In  a  day  or  two,"  was  the  reply. 


i' 


<i^ 


1i 


::'^Jl^^i,3^"-?y»d 


II 


I.  ■ 


I't. 


172 


ilIU<UIIC'HI. 


••  Do  you  know  tliiit  my  iiiit  !o  nnd  I  will  ho  <>Migcil  (o 
leave  our  newly-found  IVicndB  here,  soon  after  your  fntlitr 
gets  home?  " 

••  I  know,"  replied  Adclc,  with  upp-xrtiif  ciilninoos,  «•  thnt 
Mr.  Sonicra's  health  hsm  greatly  improved  iiud  1  auppoHed 
you  would  prohahly  go  away  soon." 

••  Pardon  inc,  Miss  Adfile,"  said  Jolui,  in  \  voice  that 
betrayed  his  emotion,  '♦  but  shall  you  miss  us  at  all  ?  Shall 
you  regret  our  absence  ?  " 

Again  Adele's  heart  bounded  quickly.  She  felt  irritated 
and  ashamed  of  its  tumult. 

By  an()ther  strong  effort,  she  answered  simply,  "  Cer- 
tainly, Mr.  Lansdowne,  vvc  shall  all  miss  you.  You  have 
greatly  enlivened  our  narrow  family  circle.  Wo  shall  be 
very  sor^  to  lose  you." 

IIow  indifferent  she  is,  thought  John.  She  does  not 
dream  of  my  love. 

•'  Miss  Adelc,"  ho  exclaimed  pnssionately,  «*it  will  bo 
the  greatest  calamity  of  my  life  to  leave  you." 

For  a  moment,  the  young  girl  was  silent.  His  voice 
both  thrilled  and  fascinated  her.  Partly  proud,  partly  shy, 
like  the  bird  who  shuns  the  snare  set  for  it,  only  fluttering 
its  wings  over  tho  spot  for  an  instant,  and  then  flying  to  a 
greater  distance,  Adclc  bestirred  her  powers  and  resolved 
•not  to  suffer  herself  to  be  drawn  into  the  meshes.  Slie 
felt  a  new,  strange  influence  creeping  over  her,  to  which 
she  was  half  afraid,  half  too  haughty  to  yield  without  a 
struggle. 

♦«  Mr.  Lansdowne,  I  am  happy  to  learn  you  place  some 


vnli 
you 
be  I 

41 

her 

don 

inlii 

crcn 

S 

nnd 

knc 

solil 
(i 

go. 

Si 
rooi 
tear 
Imd 
She 
shaL 

J 

bolt 
(( 

love 
mo 

E 
of  d 

M 
suffi 


tflt 


MIUAMICilt. 


173 


will  1)0  ((Mij^cd  to 
1  lifter  yi)iir  ffttlier 

it  nilinncHs,  ♦•  tlmt 
U  iiud  1  HuppuHeJ 


in,  in  1^  voice  that 
s  Ud  ut  nil  ?     Shall 

She  folt  irritated 

ed  Biniply,  ♦•  Ccr- 
18  you.  You  huvo 
jlo.     Wo  Mhall  be 

n.     She  docs  not 

ately,  "  it  will  bo 
you." 

silent.  His  voice 
proud,  partly  shy, 
it,  only  fluttering 
nd  then  flying  to  a 
wers  and  resolved 
the  meshes.  Siie 
over  her,  to  which 
to  yield  without  a 

rn  you  place  some 


Millie  on  our  friendship,  m  wo  do  on  yours.  But  surely, 
yciiir  own  home,  such  as  you  have  described  it  to  mo,  must 
1)0  the  most  attractive  wpot  on  earth  to  you." 

•'  Is  it  poHsilde,"  said  Mr.  Lansdowno  vcheraontly,  taking 
her  hand  and  holding  it  fast  in  his,  *'  that  you  cannot  un- 
(lorstand  mo,  —  that  you  do  not  know  that  I  lovo  you 
infinitely  more  than  father,  or  mother,  or  any  human 
creiituro?" 

Surprised  at  the  abruptness  of  this  outburst,  bewildered 
and  distressed  by  her  own  conflicting  emotions,  Adile 
knew  not  what  to  say,  and  wished  only  to  fly  away  into 
solitude  that  sho  might  collect  her  scattered  powers.         - 

••  Mr.  Lansdowne,  I  am  not  prepared  for  this.  Let  me 
go.     I  must  leave  you,"  she  exclaimed. 

Suddenly  drawing  her  hand  from  his,  sho  fled  to  her  own 
room,  locked  the  door  and  burst  into  a  passionate  flood  of 
tears.  Poor  child  I  Her  lover  with  his  unpractised  hand, 
had  opened  a  new  chapter  in  her  life,  too  precipitately. 
Sho  was  not  prepared  for  its  revelations,  and  tho  shock  had 
shaken  her  a  little  too  rudely. 

John  remained  sitting,  white  and  dumb,  as  if  a  thunder- 
bolt had  fallen  upon  him. 

"  Gone  !  gone  !  "  he  exclaimed  at  length,  '*  she  does  not 
love  me  !  And,  fool  that  I  was,  I  have  frightened  her  from 
me  forever  1 " 

He  bowed  his  head  upon  the  table  and  uttered  a  groan 
of  despair. 

Mr.  Lansdowne  returned  to  the  solitude  of  his  own  room, 
sufiiciently  miserable.    He  feared  be  bad  offended  Adila 
150 


!'!! 


l1  J . 

I 


-.^  «siui<aK«fc&- 


HS^SfiaJsiTSftwm^etvnasBssMwjt-.-j:  i 


I    1 


if       1, 


11 


I  ''f^ 


M 


Mi! 


'Hi 


I 

/ 


174 


MinAMICIII. 


past  healing.  Looking  over  the  events  of  the  week,  he 
thought  he  could  perceive  that  she  had  been  teased  by 
his  Attentions,  and  that  she  wished  to  indicate  this  by  the 
coolness  of  her  manner  and  words  to  him,  during  their 
recent  interview.  And  he  had  recklessly,  though  unwit- 
tingly, put  the  climax  to  her  annoyance  by  this  abrupt  dis- 
closure of  his  love.  He  berated  himself  unmercifully  for 
his  folly.  For  a  full  hour,  he  believed  that  his  blundering 
impetuosity  had  cost  him  tlie  loss  of  Adele  forever. 

But  it  is  hard  for  hope  to  forsake  the  young.  It  can 
never  wholly  leave  any  soul,  except  by  a  slow  process  of 
bitter  disappointment.  John  saw  that  he  had  made  a  mis- 
take. The  strength  and  tumult  of  his  passion  for  Adele  had 
led  him  thoughtlessly  into  what  probably  appeared  to  her, 
an  attempt  to  otorm  the  citadel  of  her  heart,  and  in  her  pride, 
she  had  repulsed  hiin. 

He  bethought  him  that  there  were  gentler  modes  of 
reaching  that  seat  of  life  and  love.  He  became  a  tactician. 
He.  resolved  he  would,  by  his  future  conduct,  perhaps  by 
some  chance  word,  indicate  to  Adele  that  he  understood 
her  repulse  and  did  not  intend  to  repeat  his  offence.  He 
^  would  not  hereafter  seek  her  presence  unduly,  but  when 
they  were  thrown  together,  would  show  himself  merely 
gentle  and  brotherly.  And  then,  —  he  weald  trust  to  time, 
to  circumstances,  to  his  lucky  star,  to  bring  her  to  his  side. 
In  the  mean  time,  after  her  tears  had  subsided,  Adele 
found,  somewhat  to  her  surprise,  that  this  sudden  disturb- 
ance of  her  usual  equilibrium  came  from  the  very  deep 
interest  she  felt  for  Mr.  Lansdowne.     And,  moreover,  she 


' 


was 
tot 
of  < 
thai 
don 
nesi 
Mr. 

I 
cbai 

J 
drai 

tor 

A 
besi 
ruin 
grol 
peai 
sim] 
nigl 
dres 
toh 
the 
sun 

I 
war 
rem 
alth 
hav( 
by  ( 


•  \/ 


\i 


^. 


MIEAMIOm. 


175 


3  of  the  week,  he 
id  been  teased  by 
ndlcate  this  by  the 
him,  during  their 
sly,  though  unwit- 
by  this  abrupt  dis- 
If  unmercifully  for 
that  his  blundering 
lele  forever, 
he  young.     It  can 
r  a  slow  process  of 
he  had  made  a  mis- 
ission  for  Adele  hiid 
y  apptared  to  her, 
irt,  and  in  her  pride, 

)  gentler  modes  of 
became  a  tactician, 
onduct,  perhaps  by 
that  he  understood 
sat  his  offence.  He 
I  unduly,  but  when 
lOW  himself  merely 
would  trust  to  time, 
)ring  her  to  his  side, 
lad  subsided,  Adele 
this  sudden  disturb- 
Prora  the  very  deep 
And,  moreover,  she 


was  annoyed  to  find  it  so,  and  did  not  at  all  like  to  own  it 
to  herself.  Naturally  proud,  self-relying,  and  in  the  habit 
of  choosing  her  own  path,  she  had  an  instinctive  feeling 
that  this  new  passion  might  lay  upon  her  a  certain  thrall- 
dom,  noUcongenial  to  her  haughty  spirit.  This  conscious- 
ness made  her  distant  and  reserved,  when  jhe  again  met 
j\Ir.  Lansdowne  at  the  tea-table. 

In  fact,  the  manner  of  each  towards  the  other  had  wholly 
changed.  * 

John  was  calm,  respectful,  gentle,  but  nrnde  no  effort  to 
draw  Adele's  attention.  After  tea' he  asked  Mrs.  Dubois 
to  play  backgammon  with  him. 

Adele  worked  on  her  embroidery,  and  Mr.  Somers  sat 
beside  her,  sketching  on  paper  with  his  pencil,  various  bits  of 
ruin  and  scenery  in  Europe,  mixed  up  with  all  sorts  of 
grotesque  shapes  and  monsters.  Mr.  Lansdowne  ap- 
peared, all  the  evening,  so  composed,  eo  natural,  and 
simply  brotherly,  that  when  Adele  went  to  her  room  for  the 
night,  the  interview  of  the  afternoon  seemed  almost  like  a 
dream .  She  thought  that  the  peculiar  reception  she  had  given 
to  his  avowal ,  might  have  qui  la  disenchanted  her  lover.  And 
the  thought  disturbed  her.  After  much  questioning  and 
surmising,  she  went  to  sleep. 

The  next  day  and  the  next,  Mr.  Lansdowne's  manner  to- 
wards Adele  continued  the  same.  She  supposed  he  might 
lenew  the  subject  qf  their  last  conversation,  but  he  did  not, 
although  several  opportunities  pr3sented,  when  he  might 
have  done  so.  Occasionally,  she  strove  to  read  his  emotions 
by  observing  his  countenance,  but  his  eyes  were  averted  to 


!     I: 

■  r 


f 


Sa^^^ffl^^^^S?ii^SS^«S»*I»}6*Sftw:e3.v««. 


I'iVR^i','^*!*  ^»..>«..s 


iljii 


176 


MIRAMICni. 


other  objects.  He  no  longer  glanced  towards  her.  *'AhI 
well,"  said  Adcle  to  herself,  "  his  affection  for  me  could 
not  be  so  easily  repulsed,  were  it  so  very  profound.  I 
will  care  nothing  for  him."  And  yet,  somehow,  her 
footstep  lagged  wearily  and  her  eye  occasionally  gathered 
mists  on  its  brightness. 

It  was  now  the  eve  of  tlie  fifth  of  October.  An  unnat" 
ural  heat  prevailed,  consequent  on  the  long  drought,  the 
horizon  was  skirted  with  a  smoky  haze  and«the  atmosphere 
was  exceedingly  oppressive.  Mrs.  Dubois,  who  was  suf- 
fering from  a  severe  hemlache,  sat  in  the  parlor,  half  buried 
in  the  cushions  of  an  easy-chair.  Adele  stood  beside  her, 
bathing  her  head  with  perfumed  water,  while  Mr.  Somers, 
prostrated  by  the  weather,  lay,  apparently  asleep,  upon  a 
sofa. 

"That  will  do,  Adele,"  said  Mrs.  Dubois,  making  a 
slight  motion  towards  her  daughter.  "That  will  do,  ma 
chere,  my  head  is  cooler  now.  Go  out  and  watch  for  your 
father.     He  will  surely  be  here  to-night." 

Adele  stepped  softly  out,  through  the  window  upon  the 
balcony. 

A  few  minutes  after,  Mr.  Lansdowne  came  to  the  parlor 
door,  looked  in.  inquired  for  Mrs.  Dubois's  headache,  gazed 
for  a  moment,  at  the  serene  face  of  the  sleeper  on  the  sofa, 
and  then,  perceiving  Adele  sitting  outside,  impelled  by  an 
irresistible  impulse,  went  out  and  joined  her. 

She  was  leaning  her  head  upon  her  hand,  with  her  arm 
supported  by  a  low,  rude  balustrade,  that  ran  round  the 
edge  of  the   balcony,  and  wfiS  looking  earnestly  up  the 


road, 
nanc( 
very 

up   S( 

becoi 

once 

conv< 

iuritj 

Sh 

with( 

Lane 

sever 
(( 

efFor 
ance 
confi 

a 

anxi( 

(( 

frlen^ 

spem 
(< 

endc 
(( 

coal 


hom( 


w 


MIRAMICni. 


177 


rardsher.  *'AhI 
;ion  for  me  could 
'ery  profound.  I 
t,  somehow,  her 
asionally  gathered 

jber.  An  unnat- 
long  drought,  the 
id«the  atmosphere 
ois,  who  was  suf- 
parlor,  half  buried 
stood  beside  her, 
diile  Mr.  Somers, 
ly  asleep,  upon  a 

Dubois,  making  a 
That  will  do,  ma 
nd  watch  for  your 

window  upon  the 

came  to  the  parlor 
'a  headache,  gazed 
leeper  on  the  sofa, 
e,  impelled  by  an 
ler. 

ind,  with  her  arm 

lat  ran  round  the 

earnestly  up  the 


road,  to  catch  the  first  glimpse  of  her  father.  Ilcr  counte- 
nance had  a  subdued,  sad  expression.  She  was  indeed 
very  unhappy.  The  distance  and  reserve  that  liad  grown 
up  so  suddenly  between  herself  and  Mr.  Lansdowne  had 
become  painful  to  her.  She  would  have  rejoiced  to  return 
once  more  to  their  former  habits  of  frank  and  vivacious 
conversation.  But  she  waited  for  him  to  renew  the  famil- 
iarity of  the  past. 

She  turned  her  head  towards  him  as  he  approached,  and 
withdut  raising  her  eyes,  said,  "  Good  evening,  Mr. 
Lansdowne."  lie  bowed,  sat  down,  and  they  remained 
several  minutes  in  silence. 

"I  suppose,"  said  John,  at  length,  making  a  desperate 
effort  to  preserve  a  composure  of  manner,  entirely  at  vari- 
ance withtlic  tumultuous  throbbings  of  his  heart,  "  you  are 
confident  of  your  father's  return  to-night  ?  " 

'•  O,  yes.  I  look  for  him  every  moment.  I  am  quite 
anxious  to  hear  the  result  of  the  expedition." 

"  I  am,  also.  I  hope  no  harm  will  come  to  our  good 
frien(},  Mr.  Norton.  Do  you  know  whether  he  intends  to 
spend  the  winter  here.  Miss  Adele?  " 

"  I  think  he  will  return  to  his  family.  But  we  shall 
endeavor  to  retain  him,  until  we  go  ourselves." 

"  You  go.  Miss  Adele,"  exclaimed  John,  unable  to  con- 
ceal his  eager  interest,  "  do  you  leave  here?" 

"  We  go  to  France  next  month." 

•'  To  France  1 "  repeated  the  young  man. 

"  My  father  and  mother  are  going  to  visit  thoir  early 
home.     I  shall  accompany  them." 


il 


ll 


::if'' 


■is»e»'«s»* 


m^^mt 


.'jSmissvcm 


I    i 


178 


MIRA3IICHI. 


John,  aroused  by  information  containing  so  much  of  im- 
portance in  regard  to  Adele's  future,  could  not  restrain 
himself  from  prolonging  the  conversation.  Adele  was 
willing  to  answer  his  inquiries,  and  in  a  few  minutes  they 
were  talking  almost  aa  freely  and  frankly  as  in  the  days 
before  Mr.  Lansdownc's  unfortunately  rash  avowal  of  his 
passion. 

Suddenly  a  thick  cloud  of  dust  appeared  in  the  road,  and 
Mr.  Dubois,  Mr.  Norton,  and  Micah,  were  soon  distin- 
guished turning  the  ^ead3  of  their  horses  towards  the  house. 

Adelo  uttered  an  exclamation  of  joy,  and  bounded  from 
her  seat.  As  Mr.  Lansdovvne  made  way  for  her  to  reach 
the  window,  she  glanced  for  a  moment  at  his  face,  and  there 
beheld  again  the  strange  light  glowing  in  hia  eyes.  It 
communicated  a  great  hope  to  her  heart. 

She  hastened  past  him  to  greet  her  father. 


fl» 


jL     '-««Mnfi.;. 


I 


\g  so  much  of  im- 
•ould  not  restrain 
lion.  Adele  was 
,  few  minutes  they 
:ly  as  in  the  days 
ish  avowal  of  his 

d  in  the  road,  and 
were  soon  distin- 
towards  the  house, 
and  bounded  from 
jT  for  her  to  reach 
his  face,  and  there 
:  in  hia  eyes.     It 

ther. 


CHAPTER  XXn. 

A  MEMOEABLE   EVENT. 

The  morning  of  the  sixth  of  October  dawned .  The  heat 
of  the  weather  had  increased  and  become  wellnigh  intol- 
erable. At  breakfast,  Mi-.  Dubois  and  Mr.  Norton  gave 
accounts  of  fires  they  had  seen  in  various  parts  of  the 
country,  some  of  them  not  far  off,  and  owing  to  the  prev- 
alence of  the  forest  and  the  extreme  dryness  of  the  trees 
and  shrubs,  expressed  fears  of  great  devastation. 

They  miited  in  thinking  it  would  be  dangerous  ior  the 
two  gentlemen  to  undertake  their  journey  home,  until  a 
copious  rain  should  have  fallen. 

During  the  forenoon,  the  crackling  of  the  fires  and  the 
sound  of  falling  trees  in  the  distant  forest  could  be  distinctly 
heard,  announcing  that  the  terrible  element  was  at  work. 

I  r.  Dubois,  accompanied  by  JVIi-.  2»Jorton  and  John, 
ascc  ded  the  most  prominent  hills  in  the  neighlK)rhood  to 
watch  the  direction  in  which  the  clouds  of  smoke  appeared. 
These  observations  only  confirmed  their  fears.  They 
warned  the  people  around  ov  the  danger,  but  these  paid 
little  heed.  In  the  afternoon,  the  missionary  crossed, 
horn  the  Dubois  house,  on  the  northern  side  of  the  river, 


1  I 


.!  < 


1 


«5'jsssv;'<>ii'**ai-i^w;,.  ..^-^^ 


4: 


i      I 


180 


MIllAMICfn. 


to  the  southern  bank,  and  explored  the  country  to  a  con 
eidcrable  distance  around. 

In  the  evening,  when  the  family  met  n.  '  ^adonna 
room,  cheerfulness  had  forsaken  the  party.  -M  languor 
produced  by  the  heat  and  the  heavily-ladep  atmosphere, 
Boliciiiude  felt  for  the  dwellers  in  the  forest,  through  which 
the  file  was  now  sweeping,  o  hoarse  rumbling  poise  like 
distant  thunder,  occasionally  booming  on  their  ears,  and 
gloomy  forebodings  of  impending  calamity,  all  weighed 
upon  the  dispirited  group. 

Mr.  Norton  said  it  was  his  firm  conviction  that  God 
was  about  to  display  His  poorer  in  a  signal  manner  to  this 
people  in  order  to  arouse  thv.m  to  a  sense  of  their  guilt. 

Before  separating  for  the  night,  he  requested  permission 
to  oflfer  up  a  prayer  to  heayen.  The  whole  circle  knelt, 
while  he  implored  the  Great  Ruler  of  all,  to  take  them  as 
a  family  under  his  protecting  love,  whether  life  or  death 
avraited  tljem,  and  that  He  would,  if  consistent  with  His 
great  and  wise  plans,  avert  His  wrath  from  the  people. 

The  night  was  a  dismal,  and  for  the  most  of  the  family, 
a  ideepless  one.  The  morning  rose  once  more,  but  it 
brdught  no  cheering  sound  of  blessed  rain-drops.  The  air 
was  still  hot  and  stifling.  ' 

About  noon,  the  missionary  came  in  from  a  round  of  ob- 
servation he  had  been  making,  and  urged  Mr.  Dubois  to 
take  his  family  immediately  to  the  sour-h  bank  of  the  river 
The  fires  were  advancmg  towards  them  from  the  north, 
and  would  inevitably  be  upon  them  soon.  He  had  not  been 
able  to  discover  any  appearance  of  fire  upon  the  southern 


W 


Ji      -laiaiMWi,. 


country  to  a  con 

ir.  xiulonna 

ty.  -he  languor 
iidep  atmosphere, 
8t,  through  which 
imhling  poise  like 
m  their  ears,  and 
nity,  all  weighed 

iviction  that  God 
lal  manner  to  thia 
!  of  their  guilt, 
juested  permission 
'hole  circle  knelt, 
11,  to  take  them  as 
sther  life  or  death 
)nsistent  with  His 
3m  the  people, 
aost  of  the  family, 
once  more,  but  it 
in-drops.     The  air 

rom  a  round  of  oh- 
red  Mr.  Dubois  to 
1  bank  of  the  river, 
m  from  the  north, 
.  He  had  not  been 
upon  the  southern 


MIUAJIICIir. 


181 


side  of  the  river.  It  was  true  the  approaching  flames 
might  be  driven  across,  but  the  stream  being  for  sorao 
distance  quite  wide,  this  might  not  take  place.  In  any 
event,  the  southern  side  was  the  safest,  at  the  present 
moment.  He  had  faith  in  the  instinct  of  animals,  and  fur 
several  hours  past  he  had  &cen  cattle  and  geese  leaving 
their  usual  places  of  resort  and  swimming  to  the  opposite 
shore. 

Mr.  Dubois,  also  convinced  that  there  was  no  other 
feasible  method  of  escape,  hastened  to  make  arrangements 
for  immediate  departure. 

A  mist,  tinged  with  deep  purple,  now  poured  in  from 
the  wilderness  and  overspread  the  horizon.  A  dark  cloud 
wrapped  the  land  in  a  dismal  gloom.  The  heat  grew  nearly 
insupportable.  Rapid  explosions,  loud  and  startling  noises, 
filled  the  air,  and  the  forest  thrilled  and  shook  with  the 
raging  flames.  Soon  a  fiery  belt  encircled  them  on  the 
east,  north,  and  west,  and  advancing  rapidly,  threatened 
to  cover  the  whole  area.  The  river  was  the  only  object 
which,  by  any  possibility,  could  stay  its  course. 

Then  followed  a  scene  of  wildest  confusion.  The  people, 
aroused  at  last  to  their  danger,  rushed  terrified  to  the  river, 
unmoored  their  boats  and  fled  across.  Hosts  of  women, 
whose  husbands  were  absent  in  the  forest,  came  with  their 
children,  imploring  to  be  taken  to  the  other  side.  The 
remainder  of  the  day  was  occupied  in  this  work,  and  at  the 
close  of  it,  most  of  those  living  in  the  Dubois  settlement 
had  been  safely  landed  on  th  3  southern  shore ;  and  there 
they  stood  huddled  together  in  horror-stricken  groups, 
16 


.^-'■•^ 


II 


I  I 

!   « 


! 


I    \- 


■  !*<  ■•i"| 


182 


MiriA:Micin. 


I 


on  the  hii^hcst  points  tlicy  could  reach,  watcliing  the 
terrible,  yet  majestic  scene. 

Mr.  Somers  had  been  occupied  in  this  way  all  the  after- 
noon and  was  greatly  exhausted.  As  the  darkness  of  night 
shut  dowii  upon  the  scene,  he  landed  a  party  of  women 
and  children,  who  rushed  up,  precipitately,  to  join  those 
who  had  crossed  before.  He  had  handed  the  last  pa.«dengcr 
over  the  edge  of  the  boat,  when  a  sudden  faintn'jss,  pro- 
duced by  the  excessive  heat  and  fatigue,  overpowered  him. 
He  tottered  backward  and  fell,  striking  his  heat  iolcntly 
upon  some  object  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat.  It  was  a 
deathblow. 

There  he  lay,  with  face  upturned  towards  the  lurid  glare 
that  lit  up  the  darkness.  The  boat  nestled  about  in  the 
little  cove,  rocked  upon  the  waves,  presenting  the  pale 
countenance,  now  half  in  shadow,  now  wholly  concealed  by 
the  overhanging  shrubs,  and  now  in  full  relief,  but  always 
with  a  sweet,  radiant,  immovable  calm  upon  the  featurer^, 
in  strange  contrast  to  the  elemental  roar  and  tumult  around 
him. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  fires  drew  nearer  and  nearer 
the  northern  bank  of  the  river.  A  strong  breeze  sprang 
up  and  immense  columns  of  smoke  mounted  to  the  sky. 
Then  came  showers  of  ashes,  cinders  and  burning  brands. 
At  last,  a  tornado,  terrible  in  fury,  arose  to  mingle  its 
horrors  with  the  fire.  Thunderbolt  on  thunderbolt,  crash 
on  crash  rent  the  air.  At  intervals  of  momentary  lull  in 
the  storm,  the  roar  of  the  flames  was  heard.  Rapidly  ad- 
vancing, they  shot  fiery  tongues  mto  every  beast  lair  of  the 


113 


mci 
the 


■*.     ■1"«»«feS., 


I 


li,   watcliing  the 

way  all  the  after- 
darknesa  of  night 

party  of  women 
3ly,  to  join  those 
the  last  pa.«<5cngcr 
3n  falntn'jss,  pro- 
overpc^ercd  him. 
lis  heat      iolcntly 

boat.      It  was  a 


rds  the  lurid  glare 


itled  about  in  the 
jsenting  the  pale 
lolly  concealed  by 
relief,  but  always 
pon  the  featureri, 
,nd  tumult  around 

Barer  and  nearer 
ag  breeze  sprang 
jnted  to  the  sky. 
'.  burning  brands, 
ise  to  mingle  its 
;hunderbolt,  crash 
nomentary  lull  in 
ird.  Rapidly  ad- 
y  beast  lair  of  the 


Mir^Micni. 


183 


forest,  into  every  serpent-ha,  ntcd  crevice  of  the  rock, 
sending  forth  tl;  'r  denizens  bellowing  and  writhing  with 
anguish  and  death ;  onward  still  they  rushed  licking  up 
with  hissing  sound  every  rivulet  and  shallow  pond,  twisting 
and  coiling  round  the  glorioin|^  pines,  thftt  had  battled 
the  winds  and  tempests  hundreds  of  yeara,  but  now  to  be 
sniipi)ed  and  demolished  by  this  new  enemy. 

With  breathless  interest,  the  inhabitants  of  the  settle- 
ment watched  the  progress  of  the  ilah  '.  The  hamlet 
where  th'^^^  lived  was  situated  on  a  wide  p')int  of  land, 
around  v.  i  ch  the  MIramlchi  made  an  unusually  bold 
sweep.     MIcah's  Grove  partly  skirted  it  on  the  north. 

From  the  Grove  to  the  river,  the  forest-trees  had  been 
cleared,  leaving  the  open  space  dotted  with  the  houses  of 
the  settlers.  The  fire  pressed  steadily  on  toward  the 
Grove.  The  destruction  of  that  forest  fane,  consecrated 
so  recently  to  the  worship  of  God,  ind  the  burning  of 
their  homes  and  earthly  goods  seemed  inev; table.  The 
people,  with  pale,  excited  faces,  awaited  this  heait-rending 
spectacle. 

Just  at  this  moment,  the  tornado,  conc-.iij.y  irom  the 
North  with  terrific  fury,  drawing  fiames,  treej  and  every 
niovible  object  in  its  wake,  whirling  forward  'ith  gigantic 
power,  suddenly  turned  in  its  path,  veered  towards  the 
east,  swept  past  the  Grove  and  past  the  settlement,  leav- 
ing them  wholly  untouched,  and  took  its  destructive  course 
onward  to  the  ocean.  The  people  were  duml  with  amaze- 
ment. Ruin  had  seemed  so  sure  that  they  8c;r  .^ely  truoted 
the  evidence  of  their  senses. 


^MiW*"*'**.   ' 


ili' 


ills*.,.,''!' 

.    !    At  '',-'! 


184 


MinAsncm. 


I 


They  dared  not  even  think  they  had  been  saved  from  so 
much  misery.  For  a  time,  not  a  word  was  uttered,  not  a 
muscle  moved. 

Mr.  Mummychog  was  the  first  to  recover  his  voice. 

"'Tia  a  maraclc !  a§d  nuthin'  else,"  he  exclaimed, 
"  and  we've  jest  got  to  thank  Captin'  Norton  for  it.  Ho'a 
been  a  prayin'  ut  we  might  bo  past  by,  all  'long  and  't  U 
likely  the  Lord  has  heerd  him.  «  Tain't  on  cour  own  ac- 
ccounts,  my  worthy  feller-sinners,  that  we've  been  spared. 
Mind  yu  remember  tfiiit." 

The  people  in  their  joy  gathered  around  the  missionary, 
and  united  with  Micah,  in  acknowledging  their  belief,  that 
his  prayers  had  averted  from  them  this  great  calamity. 
For  a  moment,  their  attention  was  distracted  from  the  still 
raging  horrors  of  the  scene  by  the  sense  of  relief  from 
threatened  danger. 

It  was  during  this  brief  lull  of  intense  anxiety  and  ex- 
pectation, that  our  friends  first  became  aware  of  the  absence 
of  Mr.  Vomers .  They  had  supposed,  of  course,  that  he  was 
standing  somewhere  among  the  groups  of  people,  his  at- 
tention riveted,  like  their  own,  upon  the  scene  before  them. 
Adcle  first  woke  to  the  consciousness  that  he  was  not  with 

them. 

•  She  turned  her  head  and  explored  with  earnest  gaze  the 
people  around.  She  could  see  distinctly  by  the  intense 
red  li"ht,  nearly  every  countenance  there,  but  did  not 
recognize  that  of  Mr.  Somers.  A  painful  anxiety  immedi- 
ately seized  her,  which  she  strove  in  vain  to  conceal.  She 
approached  near  where  Mr.  Lansdowne  stood,  by  the  side 


of; 

on 

Soi 
i 

cla 
iii<j 
J 
pa! 
poi 

go 

in(] 
for 

sec 

at 

ha 

ha 

br 

da 

bei 

aft 

A( 

pi, 


W 


I 


3cn  saved  from  so 
kviis  uttered,  not  a 

)vcr  hia  voice. 
I,"  ho  exclaimed, 
)rton  for  it.  lie's 
all  'long  and  't  \i 
't  on  cour  own  ac- 
rt-e've  been  spared. 

nd  the  rtSissionary, 
g  their  belief,  that 
3  great  calamity, 
icted  from  the  still 
luso  of  relief  from 

« 

se  anxiety  and  ex- 
vare  of  the  absence 
course,  that  he  was 
1  of  people,  his  at- 
scene  before  them, 
at  he  was  not  with 

th  earnest  gaze  the 
!tly  by  the  intense 
lierc,  but  did  not 
'ul  anxiety  Immcdi- 
n  to  conceal.  She 
3  stood,  by  the  side 


MinAMirrii. 


185 


of  her  mother,  gazing  after  the  fire,  placed  her  hand  lightly 
on  his  arm,  and  asked,  "Can  you  tell  me  where  Mr. 
Somers  is  to  be  found  ?  " 

♦' iMr.  Somers!  yes,  —  Ned.  Wlierc  i'^  he  "  he  ex- 
claimed, turning,,  half  bewildered  by  her  qw  lor  and  look- 
ing In  her  face. 

In   an   instant,  the   solicitude   her  fen  "«od» 

passed  into  his  own,  tlie  same  sudden  pre.  evil 

possessed  him. 

Drawing  Adele's  arm  hurriedly  into  his,  he  said,  "  plcaae 
<ro  with  me  to  seek  hiia." 

Hastening  along,  they  went  from  one  to  another,  making 
inquiries.  It  appeared  that  Mr.  Somers  had  not  been  seen 
for  several  hours. 

Immediately,  the  whole  company  took  the  alarm  and  the 
search  for  him  commenced. 

John  and  Adele,  after  fruitless  efforts  among  the  houses, 
at  length  took  their  way  to  the  river  bank.  As  they  were 
hastening  forward,  a  woman  standing  upon  a  rock  over- 
hanging the  path  they  pursued,  told  them  that  Mr.  Somers 
brought  herself  and  children- over  in  the  boat,  just  at 
dark,  —  that  she  had  not  seen  hira  since,  and  she  remem- 
bered now,  that  she  did  not  see  him  come  up  from  the  river 
after  he  landed  them. 

"Lead  us  to  the  spot  where  you  left  the  boat,"  said 
Adele.     "  Go  on  as  quickly  as  you  can." 

The  woman  descended  from  her  perch  upon  the  rock  and 
plunged  before  them  into  the  p.ath. 

"  I  remember  now,"  she  said  with  sudden  compimctions, 
16* 


.   I 


,,^  o.,*iw3r^'i™-' 


18fi 


MIKAMICiri. 


U 


l# 


nt  licr  own  HclfiMli  intllfforcnce,  <*  tlmt  the  pfcntlcraan  looked 
jMilc  (iiul  HCPinod  to  l)c  (IroiuU'ul  tired  like' 

Nfitlior  John  nor  Adt'Ic  niiidu  reply,  and  tho  woman 
hurr'u'd  on.  In  a  tew  minutes,  a  sudden  turn  in  the  path 
br(>n;.dit  them  to  the  little  cove  where  the  boat  Htill  lay. 

The  woman  fir^it  eauj;ht  sijjjht  of  tho  wan  face  in  tho 
bottom  of  the  boat,  and  uttered  a  scream  of  liorror.  Tho 
lips  of  tho  others  were  frozen  into  silence  by  tho  dread 
Bpectaclo. 

Scarcely  a  moment  seemed  to  have  passed,  before  John 
runhed  down  into  the  water,  reached  tho  boat,  raised  thence 
the  lifeless  form,  bore  it  to  tho  shore  and  laid  the  dripping 
liead  into  tho  arms  of  Adelo,  who  seated  herself  on  tho 
grass  to  receive  it. 

"Go  quickly,"  she  said  to  tho  woman,  "go  for  Dr. 
Wright.  I  saw  him  only  a  moment  ago.  Find  him  and 
bring  him  here." 

John  threw  himself  upon  his  knees  and  began  chafing 
Mr.  Somers's  hands.  "  lie  is  dead  I  he  is  dead  !  "  he  whis- 
pered, in  a  voice,  hoarse  and  unnatural  with  fear  and 
anxiety. 

"  Let  us  hope  not,"  said  AdMe  in  a  tone  of  tenderness. 
"Perhaps  it  is  only  a  swoon.  Wo  will  convey  him  to 
some  shelter  and  restore  him."  And  she  wrung  the  rain 
from  his  curls  of  long  brown  hair. 

John's  finger  was  upon  Mr.  Somers's  wrist.  "  It  will 
break  my  mother's  heart,"  he  said,  in  the  same  hoarse  whis- 
per. At  that  moment.  Dr.  Wright's  voice  was  heard.  Ho 
placed  himself,  without  a  word,  upon  the  grass,  looked  at 


t 

li 

i 

e 
fi 
n 

0 


w 


"i^^Kb 


jrcntlcraati  looked 


and  tlio  woman 
turn  in  the  path 
boat  Mtill  hiy. 
wan  face  in  the 
of  horror.  The 
ICO  by  the  dread 

sscd,  before  Joliii 
oat,  raised  thcneo 
I  hiid  tiie  (hipping 
cd  herself  on  tho 

xn,  •'  go  for  Dr. 
I.     Find  him  and 

ad  began  chafing 
18  dead  !  "  he  whis- 
al  with  fear   and 


J 


)ne  of  tenderness. 
11  convoy  hira  to 
B  wrung  the  rain 

wrist.  "  It  will 
sanie  hoarse  whis- 
e  was  heard.  Ho 
i  grass,  looked  at 


t, 

I 
e 

n 

01 


I 


-^^^^.<g-wii...»» 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


V 


Wo 


^/ 


A      -^.'^ 


y 


-<- 


1.0 


I  I 
I.I 


1.25 


112.8 


111 


14^ 

1^ 

If  m 


M 

2.2 


2.0 


1.8 


1.4    II  1.6 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


m/'>    ^     ///// 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


.^« 


«»... 


r 


L 

e 
e 
J 

n 


MlRAMICni. 


187 


I 

L 

e 
e 
J 

n 


rr 

o 


flio  pulo  face,  unfjistoncd  the  dripping  garments,  thrust  his 
liand  in  beneath  them,  and  laid  it  upon  the  young  man's 

lieart. 

"  He  is  dead  !  "  said  Dr.  Wright.  <«  Friends,  get  a  bit 
of  canvas  and  a  blanket  and  take  him  to  some  house,  till 
day  breaks." 

John,  stupefied  with  horror  and  grief,  still  knelt  by  INIr. 
Somers,  chafing  his  hands  and  wringing  the  water  from  his 
wet  garments.  At  length,  Mr.  Dubois  gently  roused  him 
from  Ills  task,  telling  him  they  would  now  remove  their 
friend  to  a  house,  where  he  miglit  be  properly  cared  for. 
"  Let  me  lift  him, "  said  Micah  to  the  young  man.  But 
;.  o.m  s.^oo^i  his  ucau  anu  stooping,  ruised  Mr.  Somers  and 
laid  him  ou  the  canvas  as  gently  as  if  he  were  a  sleeping 
infant. 

Mr.  Dubois,  the  missionary,  John,  and  Micah  conveyed 
the  precious  cliarge.  The  Doctor,  with  Mrs.  Dubois  and 
Adele  followed  in  melancholy  silence.  The  crowd  came 
behind.  The  terrific  events  of  the  night  had  made  the 
people  quiet,  thoughtful,  and  sympathetic. 

Once,  after  the  prolonged,  clinging  gaze  of  each  upon 
the  face  of  the  sleeper,  the  eyes  of  the  missionary  and  John 
met. 

•'  My  dear  yomg  man,"  said  Mr.  Norton,  in  a  low, 
emphatic  voice,  "  God  has  taken  liim  in  mercy.  The  dear 
friend  whom  we  loved,  is  himself  satisfied,  I  doubt 
not.  May  the  Eternal  Father  grant  us  all  at  the  end  of 
our  course  here  a  like  blessed  deliverance.  Amen." 
John  looked^  in  the  good  man's  face,  as  if  he  but  half 


188 


MIRAJIICIII. 


f 


understood  his  words,  and  fixed  his  eyes  again  upon  Mi: 

Sonicrs. 
At  length,  the  party  reached  a  house  near  the  river  bank, 

where  they  deposited  the  dead. 

airs.  McNab,  who  had  foUowed  close  on  their  footsteps, 

when  they  reached  the  door,  drew  Adelc  aside  and  said, 

.♦'  Naw,  Miss  Ady,  I  want  the  prcevaleege  o'  trying  to  rc- 

Boositatc  that  puir  gcntehnan.     It  wad  be  like  rasin'  the 

dead,  but  there  '11  be  nae  harm  in  tryin',  to  be  sure." 

"lie  is  dead.     The  doctor  says  so,  Aunt  Patty."     And 
Adele  turned  away  quickly. 

Tnit  :Mrs.  INIcNab- caught  her  shawl  and  held  it.  ^ 
"Naw,  Miss  Ady,  diuna  turn  awa"  inua  ii  puir  body, 
that  was  overtook  ance  or  twice  with  the  whiskey ,  when 
a  was  tired  and  worrit  for  want  o'  sleep.  I  wad  nae  ha' 
hurt  a  liair  o'  the  gentelman's  head.  An'  I  wad  like  the 
preevalecgc  o'  wrappin'  some  blankets  round  hin  an'  puttin' 
some  bottles  o'  hot  water  to  his  feet." 

Adele,  Avho  had  listened  more  patiently  than  she 
was  wont,  now  turned  and  glancing  at  Aunt  Patty,  saw 
that  she  really  looked  humble  and  wishful,  and  two  great 
tears  were  in  her  eyes. 

"Well,  I  will  see,"  said  she,  struck  with  this  new  phase 
of  Mrs,  ISIcNab's  countenance.     She  went  into  the  apart- 
ment, where  they  had  just  laid  Mr.  Somers  upon  a  bed. 
In  a  few  minutes,  she  returned. 

"  The  doctor  says  it  will  be  of  no  use.  Aunt  Patty. 
But  Mr.  Lansdowne  would  like  to  make  an  attempt  to 
restore  him.     So  come,  mamma  and  I  will  help  you." 


I 


V 

11 

u 

s 

V 

li 

n 
1 
h 


r 


JHRAJIICni. 


189 


jyes  again  upon  ^Ir. 

I  near  the  river  bank, 

).se  on  their  footsteps, 
Vdelc  aside  and  said, 
dcege  o'  trying  to  rc- 
rad  be  like  rasin'  tlio 
in',  to  be  sure." 
,  Aunt  Patty."     And 

I  and  hcUl  it. 

,     n  ..!..    l,„.1.. 

a    inua  ii  pun   uuuj^ , 

li  the  whiskey  ,  when 

leep.      I  wad  nae  ha' 

An'  I  wad  hke  tlie 

I  round  liir""  an'  puttin' 

3  patiently  than  she 
;  at  Aunt  Patty,  saw 
.'ishful,  and  two  great 

;k  with  this  mw  phase 
e  -.vent  into  the  apavt- 
.  Somcra  upon  a  bed. 

no  use,  Aunt  Patty. 
)  make  an  attempt  to 

I I  will  help  you." 


Notwitlistanding  IMrs.  McXal)'8  subdued  state  of  mind 
and  her  genuine,  unselfisli  wish  to  do  all  in  her  power  to 
bring  consciousness  to  the  stricken  form,  she  could  ncjt 
avoid,  as  she  made  one  api)]ication  after  another,  niakin" 
ali*o  a  few  indicative  observations  to  Mrs.  Dubois. 

"  Did  ye  hear  what  the  preacher  said  to  the  young  mon 
as  we  cam'  alang?  lie 's  a  mighty  quick  way  o'  desmcesin 
a'  bonnie  creetur  like  this  out  o'  the  warld  and  sayin'  he  'a 
satisfied  aboot  it." 

"  That  was  not  what  the  missionary  said,  Mrs.  Mc- 
Nab,"  replied  ]Mrs.  Dubois.  "  lie  said  that  Mr.  Somers  is 
hap])y  now.  lie  Is  in  Paradise,  and  we  must  not  wish  him 
back,  lie  is  satisfied  to  be  with  Jesus  and  the  angels  and 
his  own  mother.  That  is  what  he  meant.  And  does  he 
not  look  satisfied  ?     See  his  bllssfuUcountenancc  I  " 

INIrs.  Dubois  leaned  over  him  a  moment,  and  thinking  of 
his  sister,  Mrs.  Lansdowne,  parted  his  hair  with  her  pale, 
slender  fingers  and  imprinted  a  kiss  on  his  forehead. 

All  efforts  to  restore  warmth,  or  life  to  that  marble  form 
were  in  vain,  and  at  length  they  covered  his  face  gently, 
until  tiie  day-dawn. 

John  sat  by  tlie  bedside,  his  head  buried  in  his  hands, 
until  morning.  lie  thought  over  all  his  past  companion - 
ship  with  this  youthful  Uncle  Ned,  of  his  pleasantness, 
wit  andfascinatitm,  of  his  g  .icrous  spirit,  of  his  love  for 
his  mother  and  himself,  and  wondered  at  the  awful  strange- 
ness that  hiid  thus  fallen,  in  a  moment,  between  them. 
Then  the  thougi>t  of  his  mother's  bitter  grief  swept  over 
him  like  a  flood  and  nearly  unmanned  him.     Like  the 


190 


MIRAMICIII. 


drowning  nifxn,  his  bruin  was  stinuilatoil  to  an  unwonted 
activity.  He  lived  over  again  his  whole  life,  in  a  few  min- 
utes of  time.  This  dread  Power,  who  had  never  crossed 
his  path  before,  shocked  him  inexpressibly.  Who  of  the 
young,  unstrickcn  by  sorrow,  ever  associates  death  with 
himself  or  with  those  he  loves,  till  tiio  Arch  Reaper  conies 
some  day  and  cuts  down  and  garners  his  precious  treasme ? 

John  had  heard  of  death,  but  he  had  heard  of  it  just  as 
he  had  heard  of  the  poisonous  Upas-tree,  growing  on  some 
distant  ocean  island,  or  of  an  evil  star,  under  whose  bale- 
ful influence  he  mi^ht  never  fall. 

The  young  live  as  if  this  life  were  immortal.     So  mucli 

c,  when  they  wake  up  uuiu 


41... 


C-vpCriv;ii\; 


the  delusion. 

The  others  of  the  party  were  gathered  in  an  adjoining 
room,  gazing  silently  at  the  scene  without.  It  was  fearful, 
yet  sublime.  The  whole  northern  side  of  the  Miramiclii 
river,  for  over  one  hnndred  miles,  had  become  involved  in 
one  mighty  sheet  of  flame,  which  was  sweeping  on  in 
swift  destruction  to  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence.  The  river 
boiled  with  the  fierce  heat  and  tossed  its  foaming  waters, 
filled  with  its  now  lifeless  inhabitants,  to  the  shore.  The 
fire  was  fed  by  six  thousand  square  miles  of  primeval  for- 
est, —  a  dense  growth  of  resinous  trees,  —  by  houses  and 
barns  filled  with  crops,  and  by  thriving  towns  upon  the 
river's  bank. 

Above  all,  the  people  could  not  put  aside  the  horrible 
truth,  that  hundreds  of  men,  women,  and  children,  —  their 
friends  and  their  acquaintances,  — were  perisliing  by  the  all- 


C( 

tl 
til 

CI 

re 
dr 
01 

CO 

pr 
aw 


I 


itcd  to  an  unwonted 
ole  life,  In  a  few  niin- 
10  liiul  never  crossed 
2ssibly.  Who  of  the 
associates  death  with 
iG  Arch  Reaper  conies 
his  precious  treasure  ? 
ad  heard  of  it  just  as 
;ree,  growing  on  some 
ir,  under  whose  bale- 
immortal.  So  mucli 
n  they  wake  up  fium 

ercd  in  an  adjoining 
liout.  It  was  fearful , 
de  of  the  Miramiclii 
d  become  involved  in 
ivas  sweeping  on  in 
iawrence.  The  river 
1  its  foaming  waters, 
,  to  the  shore.  The 
niles  of  primeval  foi-- 
ses,  —  by  houses  and 
iing  towns  upon  the 

ut  aside  the  horrible 
and  children,  —  their 
e  perisliing  by  the  all- 


MIK.VMICIII. 


191 


consuming  element.  They  could  not  exclude  from  fancy, 
the  agonized  and  dying  shrieks  of  those  dear  to  them,  and 
the  demoniac  light  shone  on  countenances,  expressing 
emotions  of  pity,  grief,  horror,  and  despair. 

While  the  Missionary  sat  there  waiting  for  the  day,  ho 
recalled  with  startling  distinctness  the  wild  dream  he 
dreamed,  on  that  first  n.Vht  he  spent  at  the  Dubois  House. 
Ot  course,  his  belief  in  foregleams  of  future  events  was 
confirmed  by  the  scenes  transpiring  around  him. 

Mrs.  Dubois  sat  near  him,  her  countenance  expressinrr 
profound  grief.  ° 

"  The  dear  young  man  !  »  she  said.  '«  How  sad  and 
awful  thus  to  die  I  " 

"My  dear  madam,"  said  xMr.  Norton,  «« let  us  not 
mourn  as  those  who  have  no  hope.  Our  beloved  friend, 
brilliant  and  susceptible,  aspiring  and  tender,  was  illy  fitted 
tor  the  rude  struggle  of  life.  It  is  true  he  might  have 
fought  his  way  through,  girt  with  the  armor  of  Christian 
fuith  and  prayer,  as  many  others,  like  him,  have  done. 
But  the  fight  would  have  been  a  hard  one.  So  he  has  been 
kindly  taken  home.  Sad  and  awful  thus  to  die?  Say 
rather,  infinitely  blest  the  God-protected  soul,  thus  snatched 
away  from  this  terrific  uproar  of  natural  elements  into  the 
spliere  of  majestic  harmonies,  of  stupendous  yet  peaceful 
powers." 

A-t  daybreak  the  little  community  took  to  their  boats, 
crossed  the  river  and  re-entered  once  more  the  dwellings 
they  had  but  a  few  hours  before  left,  never  expecting  to 
return  to  them  again.    Some  went  home  aad  gathered 


Jl 


192 


MIRAJIICIII. 


their  fainilicsin  unbroken  niunbcrs  around  them.  Others, 
■\vho80  husbands  and  sons  had  been  absent  in  the  forest  at 
tlic  thuc  of  the  breaking  out  of  the  fire,  over  whose  fate 
remained  a  terrible  luiccrtainty,  gathered  in  silence  around 
lonely  hearths.  The  terrors  of  the  past  night  were,  to 
such,  supplemented  by  days  and  even  weeks  of  heart- 
breaking anxiety  and  suspense,  closed  at  last  by  the 
knowledge  of  certain  bereavement. 

All  had  been  deeply  impressed  with  the  horror  of  tlic 
scene,  and  sobered  into  thoughtfulness.  A  few  felt  truly 
grateful  to  tho  !Most  High  for  their  wonderful  preservation. 


I 


ound  them.  Othcrn, 
ihscnt  in  tlic  forest  iit 
fire,  over  whose  fate 
3rc(l  in  silence  aroinul 
past  night  were,  to 
even  weeks  of  hcnrt- 
oscd     at  last    by  the 

ith  the  horror  of  tlic 
388.  A  few  felt  truly 
'ondcrful  preservation. 


CHAPTER  XXni. 


THE   SEPARATION. 


With  the  morning  light  anil  the  return  to  the  settle- 
ment, Mr.  Lansdowne  awoke  to  a  consciousness  of  the 
duty  immediately  before  him,  that  of  making  arrange- 
ments for  the  safe  conveyance  home  of  *hc  precious  form 
now  consigned  to  his  care. 

His  friends  at  the  Dubois  house  manifested  the  deepest 
sympathy  in  his  affliction,  and  aided  him  In  every  possible 
way.  In  making  his  journey  he  concluded  to  take  a  boat 
conveyance  to  CHatham,  and  a  trading  vessel  thence  to  hia 
native  city. 

The  missionary,  who  since  the  early  spring  had  been 
laboring  up  and  down  the  rivers  St.  John  and  Miramichi, 
now  concluded  to  rp^.iirn  to  his  family  for  the  coming  win- 
ter. Such  had  L  o.:  his  intention  and  his  promise  +0 
Mrs.  Norton,  when  he  left  home.  He  was  induced  to  20 
at  this  particular  time  partly  by  the  hope  of  rendering 
some  service  to  Mr.  Lansdowne  during  his  journey,  and 
partly  in  order  to  see  JSIrs.  Lansdowne  and  impart  to 
her  the  particulars  of  her  brother's  residence  and  illness 
at  Miramichi.  A  scheme  of  mercy  on  the  part  of  the  good 
man. 

17 


I, 


11)4 


MiitAMiriii. 


On  the  return  of  Mr.  Diihoia  to  his  lioiise,  he  fonml  ii 
packiigo  of  Icttora,  which,  in  the  confusion  luiil  anxiety  of 
the  i)rcvi<)in  day,  hud  roniiiined  unopened.  Tlieic  was 
one  from  tiio  Count  do  Uoi^Hillon,  unnoinicing  the  death 
of  tlie  Countess.  lie  wrote  iw  if  d(;ci)ly  depressed  in 
mind,  speiikin;,'  of  the  inlirnilties  of  UL^e  weighing  heavily 
u2)on  him,  nnd  of  his  h)nelincss,  and  iniph)ring  Mr.  Duljois 
to  conic,  make  his  ttb(»dc  at  the  chateau  and  take  charge 
of  tlic  estate,  wliich,  at  his  death,  he  added,  would  pass 
into  tlic  possession  of  Mrs.  Duhois  and  Adole. 

Mrs.  Dubois's  heart  beat  with  delight  and  her  eyes  swam 
witii  tears  of  pleasure,  at  the  prospect  of  once  more  return- 
ing to  her  beloved  Picardy.  Yet  her  joy  was  severely 
chastened  by  the  loss  of  the  Countess,  whom  she  had  fondly 
loved. 

Adele  felt  a  satisfaction  in  the  anticipation  of  being 
restored  to  the  dignities  of  liossillon,  which  she  was  too 
proud  to  manifest. 

JNIr.  Dubois  alone  hesitated  in  entertaining  the  idea  of  a 
return.  His  innate  love  of  independence,  together  with  a 
remembrance  of  the  early  antipathy  the  Count  had  shown 
to  the  marriage  with  his  niece,  made  the  thought  repellant 
to  him.  A  calmer  consideration,  however,  changed  hia 
view  of  the  case.  He  recollected  that  the  Connt  hnd  at 
last  consented  to  his  union  with  Mrs.  Dubois,  and  rollotted 
that  the  infirmities  and  loneliness  of  the  Coun^  laid  on 
them  obligations  they  should  not  neglect.  He  found, 
also,  that  his  own  love  of  home  and  country,  now  that  it 
could  at  last  with  propriety  be  gratified,  welled  up  and 
overflowed  like  a  newly  sprung  fountain. 


MIUAMICIir. 


199 


rt  house,  he  foiuul  sv 
won  luul  anxiety  of 
pciied.  There  was 
iiouiicing  the  death 
l(;oi)ly  depressed  in 
L^e  weighing  heavily 
iiphjring  Mr.  Duhois 
au  and  take  eiiarge 
}  added,  would  pasa 
1  Adele. 

it  and  her  eyca  8wam 
of  once  more  return- 
er joy  was  severely 
ivhom  she  had  fondly 

nticipation  of  being 
,  which  she  was  too 

taining  the  idea  of  a 
inee,  together  with  a 
le  Count  had  shown 
:lie  thought  repellant 
>wever,  changed  his 
it  the  Count  hnd  at 
Dubois,  and  ro:ii;tted 
the  Coun*  laid  on 
eglect.  He  found, 
country,  now  that  it 
ified,  welled  up  and 
in. 


The  tornmlo  had  spent  itself,  the  fire  had  rushed  on  to 
the  ocean,  the  atmosphere  had  became  comparatively  clear 
and  the  weather  cool  and  bracing. 

On  the  evening  before  the  departure  of  Mr.  Norton  ami 
Mr.  Lansdi'wiie,  the  family  met,  as  on  many  previous 
occasions,  in  the  Madonna  room.  In  itself,  the  ai)artmcnt 
was  as  cheerfid  and  attractive  as  ever,  but  each  one  present 
felt  a  sense  of  vacancy,  a  shrinking  of  the  heart.  Tijo 
sutmy  changeful  glow  of  one  bright  face  was  no  longer 
there,  and  the  shadows  of  api)roaching  separation  cast  a 
gloom  over  the  scene. 

These  i)eople,  so  strangely  thrown  together  in  this  wild, 
obscure  region  of  Jliramichi,  drawn  liither  by  such  dillbr- 
ing  objects  of  pursuit,  bound  by  such  various  ties  in  life, 
occupying  such  divergent  positions  in  the  social  scale,  had 
grown  by  contact  and  sympatliy  into  a  warm  friendship 
toward  each  other.  Their  daily  intercourse  was  now  to 
be  broken  up,  the  moment  of  adieu  drew  nigh,  and  the 
prospect  of  future  meeting  was,  to  say  the  least,  precarious. 
Was  it  strange  that  some  sharp  pangs  of  regret  lilled  their 
hearts  ? 

iNIr.  Lansdownc,  who  had  up  to  this  time  been  wholly 
occupied  with  his  preparations  for  departure,  was  sitting, 
in  an  attitude  betokening  weariness  and  despondency, 
leaning  his  arms  upon  a  table,  shading  his  face  with  his 
hand.  A  fe\v^  days  of  grief  and  anxiety  had  greatly 
changed  him.  He  looked  pale  and  languid,  but  Adele 
thought,  as  she  occasionally  glanced  at  liim  from  the  sofa 
opposite,  that  she  had  never  seen  his  countenance  so  clothed 
with  spiritual  beauty. 


;JI 


196 


MIUAMICIII. 


I 


Mr.  Pubolsj.who  lind  not  yet  spoken  to  hU  friends  of 
his  intctitloii  to  riMnove  to  Fnincc,  now  hmkc  tliu  heavy 
Hilcncc,  hy  annouiicln;^  his  piirposi!  to  leave,  in  the  course 
of  a  week,  mid  return    witii  his  family  to  I'ieiirdy. 

Mr.  Lansduwjio  started  suddenly  and  uttered  a  sli-fht 
exclamation.  Adelo  looked  nt  him  involuntarily.  Ho 
wnH  gazing  at  her  intently.  The  strange  light  again 
glowed  in  his  eyes.  Her  own  fell  slowly.  She  could 
not  keep  her  lids  lifted  heneath  his  gaze. 

After  the  plans  of  !Mr.  Dubois  had  been  discussed, 
mutual  iiupiirics  and  communications  respecting  future 
prospects  were  made,  until  the  evening  hours  were  gone. 

•'If  my  life  is  spared,  I  shall  cf)me  here  and  spend  another 
season,  as  I  have  spent  the  one  just  closing,"  said  Mr. 
Norton. 

Tims  they  parted  for  the  night. 

In  the  morning  there  was  tir^o  for  nothing,  but  a  few 
hasty  words. 

Adelc's  face  was  very  pale.  Mr.  Lansdownc,  looking 
ns  if  he  had  not  slc[)t  for  many  hours,  took  her  hand,  bqnt 
over  it  silently  for  a  moment,  then  walked  slowly  to  the 
boat  without  turning  his  head. 

During  days  and  weeks  of  tranquil  pleasure  in  each  other's 
companionship,  these  two  young  beings  had  unconsciously 
become  lovers.  No  sooner  had  they  awakened  to  a  knowl- 
edge of  this  fact,  than  a  great  danger  and  an  unlookcd  for 
sorrow,  wliile  decjicning  the  current  of  their  existence,  had 
also  deepened  tlieir  alfeetion.  Was  that  formal,  restrained 
adieu  to  be  the  end  of  all  this  ? 


)ltcn  to  hiH  friends  of 

low  broke  tlu)  lu.'uvy 

)  leave,  in  the  courso 

\y  to  I'Icanly. 

and  uttered  a  Blif^lit 

It    involuiitnrily.      IIo 

strnngo    light  iigaiii 

slowly.     She   couKl 

izc. 

hud  been  discussed, 
ns  respecting  future 
ng  hours  were  gone, 
lerc  and  spend  another 
8t  closing,"  said  Mr. 


or  nothing,  but  a  few 

.  Lansdownc,  looking 
),  took  her  hand,  bqnt 
walked  slowly  to  the 

)leasurc  in  each  other's 
[igH  had  unconsciously 
awakened  to  a  knowl- 
r  and  an  unlookcd  for 
of  their  existence,  had 
'hat  formal,  restrained 


CIlAPTKIt  XXIV. 


CHATEAU   DR   HOSSILLON. 


L\  the  year  182S,  three  years  after  the  occurrences 
related  in  the  lust  chapter,  Adelo  Dubois,  grown  into  a 
.^uiioib  buiiuly,  stood  near  the  Aplwodlte  fountain,  in  front 
of  the  chateau  de  Kossillon,  feeding  from  her  hand  a  beau- 
tiful white  fawn.  It  was  a  warm,  sunny  afternoon  in  June. 
j\l:ijesti(;  trees  shaded  the  green  lawn,  and  the  dark  brown 
hue  of  the  old  chateau  formed  a  fitting  background  for  the 
charming  tableau.  Adele  was  enveloped  in  a  cloud  of  white 
gauzy  drapery,  a  black  velvet  girdle  encircling  her  vvai^t, 
fiistcned  by  a  clasp  of  gold  and  pearls.  Her  hair  was  laid 
in  smooth  bands  over  her  brow,  then  drawn  into  one  mass 
of  heavy  braids  upon  the  back  of  the  head,  and  secured  by 
a  golden  arrow  shot  ll  'ough  it. 

One  who  by  chance  had  seen  Adele  in  the  wilds  of  ^Tira- 
michi,  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  would  at  once  recogni/c  the 
lady  feeding  the  fawn  as  the  same.  At  a  second  glance, 
the  hair  would  be  seen  to  have  grown  a  shade  darker  and 
a  gleam  more  shining,  the  large  sloe-colored  eyes  more 
thoughtful  and  dreamy,  the  complexion  of  a  more  trans- 
17- 


198 


mR.uiicin. 


parent  whiteness,  anil  the  figure  to  have  ripened  Into  a 
fuller  and  richer  symmctiy. 

Notliing  could  surpass  the  exquisite  moulding  and  fair- 
ness of  the  arm  extended  alternately  to  feed  and  caress 
the  pet  animal  before  her.  No  wonder  the  little  creature 
looked  up  at  her  with  Its  soft,  almost  human  eyes,  and 
gazed  In  her  face,  as  If  half  bewildered  by  her  beauty. 

"With  a  proud  and  stately  grace,  she  moved  over  the 
sward,  up  the  marble  steps  and  passed  through  the  great 
saloon  of  the  chateau.  Was  there  not  a  slight  air  of  Ind'i- 
ference  and  c?«?r«j  In  her  face  and  movements?  Possibly. 
It  has  been  noticed  that  people  who  are  loved,  petted,  and 
admired,  who  have  plenty  of  gold  and  jewels,  who  sit  at 
feasts  made  for  princes,  and  have  the  grand  shine  of  splen- 
dor always  gleaming  round  them,  arc  more  likely  to  carry 
that  weary  aspect,  than  others.  (Queens  even  do  not  look 
pleased  and  happy  more  than  half  the  time.  The  fact 
was,  that  Adele  of  MIramichi,  having  spent  much  time  in 
Paris,  during  the  last  three  years,  where  she  had  been 
greatly  admired,  now  that  the  novelty  was  over,  had 
become  tired  of  playing  a  part  In  the  pageantry  of  courtly 
life  and  longed  for  something  more  substantial. 

As  she  crossed  the  saloon,  a  page  Informed  her  that 
Mrs.  Dubois  wished  her  presence  In  the  library.  She  im- 
mediately obeyed  the  summons. 

This  apartment,  one  of  the  pleasantest  in  the  chateau, 
was  a  favorite  with  the  Count ;  and  as  age  and  infirmity 
crept  upon  him,  he  grew  more  and  more  attached  to  it, 
and  was  accustomed  to  epend  there  the  greater  pai-t  of  his 


BIIR.UIICTII. 


109 


I  have  ripened  Into  a 

tc  moulding  and  fair- 
ly to  feed  and  caresa 
Icr  the  little  creature 
ost  human  eycti,  and 
red  hy  her  beauty. 

she  moved  over  the 
ssed  through  the  groat 
ot  a  slight  air  of  Indi- 
ovements?  Possibly, 
are  loved,  petted,  and 
and  jewels,  who  sit  at 
grand  shine  of  splcn- 
c  more  likely  to  carry 
leens  even  do  not  look 

the  time.  The  fact 
ig  spent  ranch  time  in 
,  where  she  had  been 
velty  was  over,  had 
3  pageantry  of  courtly 
substantial. 

ge  informed  her  that 
the  library.     She  im- 

antest  in  the  chateau, 

d  as  age  and  infirmity 

more  attached  to  it, 

the  greater  pai-t  of  his 


time,  amused  and  soothed  by  the  attentions  of  ]\Irs.  Dubois 
and  Adele.  It  was  a  lofty,  but  not  very  large  apartment, 
flic  walls  nearly  covered  with  bookcases  of  oak,  carved  in 
quaint  old  patterns  and  filled  with  choice  books  in  various 
languages.  Several  finely  executed  statues  were  placed  in 
niches,  and  one  large  picture,  by  Ilubcns,  gathered  a  stream 
of  sunt^hinc  upon  its  gorgeous  canvas. 

The  Count  was  sitting,  burled  in  the  purple  cushions  of 
an  easy-chair,  fast  asleep,  and  as  Adele  entered  the  room, 
her  mother  held  up  her  finger,  warnlngly. 

"  M(t  chcre,  "  said  Mrs.  Dubois,  in  a  low  tone,  "  here  is 
R  packet  of  letters  for  you,  from  Paris." 

Adele  took  them  from  her  mother's  hand,  IndifTerently. 
She  read  and  crushed  together  a  note  bearing  the  impres- 
sion of  a  coat  of  arms. 

"  Count  D'Orsay  and  sister  wish  to  come  here  next 
week,  "  she  said,  with  a  half  sigh. 

"  A7/,  hlc7)..'  wn  chcre,  they  are  agreeable  people.  I 
shall  be  glad  to  see  them." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Adele,  Gabrielle  is  very  lovely.  Never- 
theless, I  regret  they  are  coming." 

"  Do  you  know,  Adele,  how  highly  your  father  esteems 
the  young  Couet  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mamma,  and  that  is  one  reason  why  I  do  not 
wish  him  to  come  now  to  Rosslllon.  You  know  he  loves 
mc,  and  my  father  approves.  I  can  never  marry  him.  But 
I  esteem  and  respect  him  so  much,  that  it  will  give  me 
fhfinltc  pain  to  say  nay." 

^Irs.  Dubois  looked  at  Adele  very  tenderly,  yet  gravely, 


:<!« 


200 


MinAiiTcni. 


I 


and  said,  *'  Ma  JtUc,  do  not  throw  away  a  true,  devoted 
affection,  for  the  sake  of  a  pliantom  one.  I  fear  that,  while 
you  arc  dreaming  and  waiting,  happiness  will  slip  out  of 
your  path." 

"Dreaming  and  waiting,"  repeated  Adele,  a  slight  red 
color  kindling  on  her  cheek,  "  am  I  dreaming  and  waiting?  " 

"  It  seems  to  me  you  are,  ma  c/ierc  ;  I  fear  it  will  at  last 
spoil  your  peace.  I  do  not  see  how  the  Count  D'Orsay 
can  fail  to  win  your  heart.     Do  not  decide  hastily,  Adele." 

"  I  have  considered  (he  affair  a  lomx  time  already.  I 
have  looked  into  my  heart  and  find  nothing  there,  for 
Count  D'Orsay,but  simple  respect,  esteem,  and  friendship. 
7t  would  be  a  wrong  to  him,  should  I  consent  to  marry 
him,  without  a  warmer,  deeper  sentiment.  Jt  is  of  n(j  use 
thinking  about  it  longer.  The  subject  must  be  closed.  I 
know  I  shall  not  change,  and  his  affection  is  too  true  and 
pure  to  be  tampered  with.  I  shall  tell  him  all  frankly 
next  week." 

"  E/i,  him!"  said  jNIrs.  Dubois,  with  a  sigh,  and  returned 
to  her  letters. 

Adele,  who  felt  quite  unhappy  to  disappoint  her  mother's 
hopes  in  the  case,  looked  thoughtful.  They  were  both 
silent  for  several  minutes.  «► 

"  Here  is  a  letter  from  the  good  missionary,"  suddenly 
whispered  INIrs.  Dubois,  holding  up  to  her  daughter  several 
sheets  of  large  paper,  well  covered.  "  Sec  what  a  nice 
long  one.     Now  we  shall  hear  the  news  from  our  old  home." 

She  began  to  read  the  missive  in  a  low  tone,  looking  oc- 
casionally to  see  if  her  voice  disturbed  the  sleeper,  and 


tl 
11 


C[ 

111 
or 
id 
te 
fr. 
in; 
of 

sp 

yo 

ph 

Ti 

str 
wc 
di^ 
ani 
wll 
spi 
iull 
iuc 


I 


away  a  true,  devoted 
e.  I  fear  that,  •svhile 
incss  will  slip  out  of 

I  Adt'lc,  a  sli^lit  red 

3amiiig  and  waitinLr  ?  " 

;  I  fear  it  will  at  last 

the  Count    D'Or.say 

ecidc  hastily,  Adele." 

)ng  time  already.     I 

id    nothing  there,  for 

teem,  and  friendship. 

I  I  consent  to  marry 

lent.     It  is  of  no  use 

;t  must  be  closed.     I 

ection  is  too  true  and 

tell  him  all  frankly 

b  a  sigh,  and  returned 

sappoint  her  mother's 
d.     They  were   both 

•- 
nissionary,"  suddenly 
her  daughter  several 
"  See  what  a  nice 
3  from  our  old  home." 
ow  tone,  looking  o§- 
led  the  sleeper,  and 


BrmAMicni. 


201 


Adelc,  whoso  countenance  had  instantly  brightened  upon 
the  mention  of  the  letter,  drew  her  seat  nearer  to  her 
mother  and  listened  intently. 

I\IiRA3ircni  Rn'EB,  Apkil,  1828. 
Dear  Fkiends  — 

I  am  again  on  the  memorable  spot.  You 
can  scarcely  imn^ine  my  interest  in  retracing  the  scene  of 
my  brief  missron  here,  in  the  summer  and  autumn  of  1825, 
or  the  deep  emotion  with  which  I  revisit  your  former  res- 
idence, the  house  under  whose  roof  you  so  kindly  shel- 
tered and  entertained  one,  then  exiled,  like  yourselves, 
from  home.  I  shall  ever  rejoice  that  Providence  threw  me 
into  your  society,  and  bestowed  upon  me  the  precious  gift 
of  your  friendship. 

Three  years  have  passed  since  those  eventful  weeks  wo 
spent  together,  on  the  banks  of  this  beautiful  river,  and 
you  will  be  interested  to  know  what  changes  have  taken 
place  here  during  that  time. 

Traces  are  still  distinctly  visible  of  the  awful  fire,  but 
Time,  the  great  healer  of  wounds,  and  Nature,  who  is,  ever 
striving  to  cover  up  the  desolations  of  earth,  are  both  at 
Avork,  silently  but  diligently  overlaying  the  hideous  black 
disfigurement  with  greenness  and  beauty.  The  Mlramiohi 
and  its  picturesque  jirecincts  are  now  more  alive  than  ever, 
with  a  hardy  and  active  population.  New  villages  are 
s])ringing  up  on  the  banks  of  the  river,  and  business,  espec- 
ially in  the  branches  of  lumbering  and  fishing,  is  greatly 
inci'easing.     There  is  also  a  marvellous  change  in  the  moral 


202 


MTRAMICin. 


asjicct  of  the  country.  It  is  ascribccl  in  a  great  tlogrco  to 
the  deep  impression  made  iqxni  the  minds  of  the  peoplT;  liy 
the  conflagration,  and  doubtless  this  is  the  fact.  It  must 
be  that  God  had  a  retiibutory  end  in  view  in  that  great 
event.  It  was  a  judgment  upon  the  community  for  its 
exceeding  wickedness.  Nothing  short  of  a  grand,  wide- 
spread illumination  like  that,  could  have  penetrated  tlie 
gross  darkness  that  hung  over  the  land. 

The  way  li^s  been  thus  prepared  for  the  reception  of  the 
truth ;  and  whereas  formerly  the  people,  if  they  came  at 
all  to  hear  the  preaching  of  God's  word,  were  only  drawn 
by  motives  of  vain  curiosity,  or  the  desire  of  novelty,  thoy 
now  come  in  great  numbers  aftd  with  a  sincere  desire,  as  I 
believe,  to  be  instructed  in  the  way  of  salvation.  La.<t 
year,  I  came  to  this  region  early  in  the  spring  and  labored 
until  late  in  the  autumn,  preaching  up  and  down  the  river, 
from  house  to  house  and  from  grove  to  grove,  and  found 
the  people,  almost  everywhere,  ready  to  hear.  Many 
were  baptized  in  the  flowing  waters  of  the  Miramichi,  made 
a  profession  of  their  tiiith  in  Christ,  and  have  since  exhib- 
ited in  their  daily  lives,  good  and  in  some  cases  shininn; 
evidence  of  their  sincerity. 

You  may  perhaps  be  interested  to  know  that  yesterday, 
which  was  the  Sabbath,  1  discoursed,  as  in  days  gone  by, 
in  Alicah's  Grove.  The  people  came  in  from  a  great 
distance  around,  and  It  was  estimated  that  there  were  not 
less  than  eight  hundred  present. 

]\ly  soul  was  completely  filled  with  a  sense  of  God's 
unbounded  love  to  the  human  family,  and  my  heart  was 


ei 

l>< 

re 
a 
w 
th 

pr 
])r 
an 

801 

gr 

601 

.Sc 

tll( 
tll( 

he; 
to, 
im 
Ml 
wo 
fai 
ho; 
Til 


the 


I 


bed  ill  a  great  dogroo  to 
minds  of  tho  peopl?;  \)y 
is  IS  tho  fact.  It  must 
I  in  view  in  tli.it  great 
the  community  foi  its 
liort  of  a  grand,  wido- 
d  have  penetrated  tlie 
fmd. 

for  the  reception  of  tlie 
)eople,  if  they  came  at 
rord,  were  only  drawn 
desire  of  novelty,  they 
til  a  sincere  desire,  as  I 
ay  of  salvation.  Last 
the  spring  and  labored 
up  and  down  the  river, 
ve  to  grove,  and  found 
cady  to  hear.  Many 
of  the  iNIiraniichi,  made 
and  have  since  exhib- 


m  some  cases  sliiniii!i' 


)  know  that  yesterday, 
;d,  as  in  days  gone  by, 
'amo  in  from  a  great 
;ed  that  there  were  not 

with  a  sense  of  God's 
ily,  and  my  heart  was 


MinAJIICIII. 


203 


enlarged  to  speak  of  the  wonderful  things  belonging  to  Ilia 
,i,n)odness  and  mercy  towards  us,  as  a  race.  I  was  like  a 
bottle  filled  with  new  wine,  my  heart  overflowing  with  the 
remembrance  of  God's  love.  Conviction  was  carried  in 
a  most  signal  manner  to  the  souls  of  many  present.  The 
whole  assembly  seemed  for  a  time  to  be  overshadowed  l)y 
the  immediate  Divine  presence. 

It  is  remarkable,  that  though  the  people  do  at  the 
jircsent  time  seem  to  be  under  profound  religious  im- 
])rcssions,  yet  there  are  scarcely  any  traces  of  the  dclusioa 
and  wildfire  usually  accompanying  such  seasons,  among  a 
somewhat  uncultivated  and  undisciplined  population.  That 
great  fire  sobered  them,  perhaps. 

But,  my  dear  friends,  I  know  you  are  impatient  to  hear 
some' details  respecting  the  state  of  affairs  at  the  "  Dubois 
Settlement,"  so  called  from  the  grateful  attachment  felt  by 
the  inhabitants  for  a  distinguished  family  once  residiu'^- 
there.  The  new  people  who  have  established  themselves 
icrc  of  late,  ai-e  acquainted  with  the  family  just  alluded 
to,  of  course  only  by  tradition,  but  so  deep  has  been  the 
impression  made  upon  the  minds  of  the  new  comers,  by 
Mrs.  IMcXab,  Micah  Mummychog,  and  others,  of  the 
Avorth,  benevolence,  power,  and  present  grandeur  of  said 
family,  that  these  persons  are  more  than  willing,  they  feel 
ignored  in  retaining  the  name  of  Dubois  in  this  parish. 
The  above  is  written,  to  elucidate  to  your  minds  the  fact, 
ob\  ions  enough  here,  that  you  are  not  forgotten. 

Now,  you  will  wish  to  hear  what  has  befallen  some  of 
the  queer  notabilities  of  the  Settlement.     By  courtesy,  I 


0 


204 


MIU.UIICIII, 


begin  with  Mrs.  McNab.  You  will  romcmbcr  her,  as  tlio 
general  oniclo  and  adviser  of  a  eertain  portion  of  tlio 
lenialc  population  in  the  neighboriiood,  and  as  greatly 
opposed  to  some  of  the  "  doctreenes,"  as  she  eallcd  my 
instructions  to  the  people.  Well,  she  remains  in  her 
entireness  and  individuality,  her  costume  as  grotesque  and 
her  speech  as  Scotch  as  ever. 

You  will  be  surprised,  however,  to  learn  that  she  has  a 
fjir  more  favorable  opinion  of  your  humble  servant  than 
formerly.  I  have  had  some  difficulty  in  accounting  for 
this  change  in  her  disposition.  It  seems,  however,  that  she 
had  early  taken  a  prejudice  against  Yankees,  and  had  got  an 
idea,  in  the  beginning,  that  I  had  some  wily  and  sinister  in- 
tentions toward  the  people,  connected  Avith  my  labors  here. 
No  developments  of  that  kind  having  been  made,  she  be- 
gan to  look  more  complacently  upon  my  efforts,  and  she 
thinks  now  that  the  way  in  •  which  I  have  endeavored  to 
lead  the  community,  is  not  so  bad  after  all. 

"  The  warst  thing  I  had  agen  ye,  was  this,"  she  said  to 
mc  not  long  since.  '<  My  mcenister  o'  the  Kirk  at  Dum- 
fries used  to  preach  that  a  pusson,  might  repent  o'  his  sins, 
an'  pray  and  pray  a'  his  life  lang,  but  wad  nae  ken,  in  this 
warld,  whether  or  nae  he  was  to  be  saved.  Whereas,  ye 
ken  ye  told  the  people  that  cf  they  repented  o'  their  sins 
and  believed  in  Christ  and  gave  the  evidence  o'  gude  warks 
they  might  settle  right  doon,  and  ken  they'd  be  saved, 
anyhow.  I  ca'  that  a  peskalent  doctrecn,  an  a  loose  anc 
to  proraoolgate.  Though  I  must  confess,  ye  hae  na  duue 
the  meeschief  I  luked  for." 


ol 

8t 

c 

0( 

ai 
ni 
sii 
in 
(li 

6t 

fii 
th 
ac 
b( 

r' 
:\i 

SI 

h 
d( 

ot 
Ov 
fil 


g' 


ol 

CI 


MIR.UIICIII. 


205 


I  remember  her,  as  tlic 
certain  portion  of  the 
iriiood,  and  as  greatly 
1C3,"  as  she  called  my 
.1,  she  remains  in  her 
itume  as  grotesque  and 

to  learn  that  she  has  a 
r  humble  servant  than 
:ulty  in  accounting  fur 
cems,  however,  that  she 
fankces,  and  had  got  an 
me  wily  and  sinister  in- 
cd  with  my  labors  here. 
Dg  been  made,  she  bo- 
on my  efforts,  and  she 
I  have  endeavored  to 
ifter  all. 

',  was  this,"  she  said  to 
2r  o'  the  Kirk  at  Dum- 
night  repent  o'  his  sins, 
ut  wad  nae  ken,  in  this 
e  saved.  Whereas,  ye 
y  repented  o'  their  sins 
evidence  o'  gude  warks 
ken  they'd  be  saved, 
Dctreen,  an  a  loose  anc 
jnfess,  ye  hae  na  duue 


I  did  not  think  it  best  to  go  into  a  discussion  of  our  the- 
ological difTerences,  lest  it  should  stir  up  tlie  waters  of 
strife,  and  tiiercfore  waived  the  subject. 

Mrs.  MeNab  occupies  two  comfortable  rooms  at  Mrs. 
Campbell's  house,  from  whence  she  issues  forth,  whenever 
occasion  calls,  to  perform  the  duties  of  nurse,  counsellor, 
and  supervisor-general  of  the  domestic  affairs  of  the  com- 
munity. The  tea-drinkings  in  her  parlor  seem  to  be  occa- 
sions of  great  social  enjoyment  to  the  fortunate  neighbors 
invited.  After  the  regular  gossip  of  the  day  has  been 
discussed,  she  entertains  her  company  with  the  same  old 
Btoriea  of  her  former  life  in  Scotland,  among  its  grand 
families,  and  to  these  she  has  added,  for  the  benefit  of 
those  who  have  more  recently  come  into  the  Settlenjent, 
accounts  of  the  •♦  Doobyce  "  family,  characterizing  its  mem- 
bers by  remarking,  that  "  Mr.  Doobyce  was  a  braw, 
princely  mon,  his  wife  a  sweet,  fair  spoken  leddy,  an' 
]\Iiss  Ady  was  a  born  queen,  ef  there  ever  was  ane. 
IShe  had  her  ane  way  wi'  everybody,  an'  e'en  I  mysel' 
hue  gien  up  to  her,  whiles." 

jMicah  Mummychog,  aliod  Jones,  Miss  Adele's  special 
devotee,  never  a  bad-licarted  person,  has  now  become  one 
of  the  iiilluential  men  of  the  neighborhood,  and  sustains  here 
every  good  word  and  work.  About  a  year  after  the  great 
fire,  ho  had  a  long  and  dangerous  illness,  brought  on  by 
great  exposure  to  cold  while  lumbering  in  the  woods. 

Mrs.  McNab  voluntarily  went  to  his  house  and  took  care 
of  him  most  assiduously,  for  many  weeks,  until  his  recov- 
ery.    Micah  said,  that  "  it  looked  remarkable  kind  in  tha 
18 


206 


MIKAMICin. 


I 


old  soul  to  come  of  her  own  accord  and  take  kecr  of  liiin, 
when  ho  'd  allurs  iiliiL^ucd  her  so  unmascifully." 

lie  felt  very  <j;ratofnl  to  her  and  paid  her  handsiomcly  for 
her  services.  Nevertheless,  ho  teases  her  yet  occasionally 
and  says  ♦'  he  dont  know  neow,  which  skeercd  him  most, 
the  great  fire,  or  comin'  to  his  senses  one  night  when  lie 
was  sick,  and  seein'  Aunt  McNab  with  her  head  wrojjpcJ 
up  In  its  cotton  night  gear." 

Subsequent  to  Alicah's  recovery,  he  went  to  the  Kcnne 
bee  lliver  and  visited  his  friends.  After  his  return,  he 
commenced  trading,  and  is  now  doing  quite  an  extensive 
business.  He  has  entirely  broken  off  from  his  old  habits 
of  swearing  and  gaml)ling,  and  discountenances  them 
among  the  people.  lie  attends  religious  worship  constantly, 
and  sets  a  worthy  example  in  keeping  the  Sabbath  day 
He  is  also  getting  his  ideas  up  on  the  subject  of  educa^ 
tiou.  Not  long  since,  he  told  me  it  was  his  opinion  that 
**  there  \r<u'n't  half  school  larnin'  enuf  among  the  people, 
and  there  'd  oug"?'ter  to  be  longer  schools.  There  'a  Jiaiiy 
Campbell,  there,  a  b  ".'tfht  leetle  imp  as  ever  was,  and  cf 
she  'd  had  a  chance  woUi'^  ^  taken  to  her  books,  like  a 
chicken  to  a  dough  dish.  And  i''cre  's  others,  most  as  smart 
as  she  is,  all  reound,  that  need  sclioo''^'*  ^  ft^l  the  want 
of  it  myself,  neow  its  tew  late  to  git  it." 

A  few  days  ago,  Micah  told  me  he  expecfca  to  build  a 
new  house  for  himself  soon. 

"Ah!  Micah,"  said  I,  ««  have  you  got  tired  of  that 
comfortable  old  house  of  yours,  where  we  have  had  so 
many  nice  suppers  and  cosey  times  to<'ether  ?  " 


nev 

fell 

(low 

•'  a 
« 

tiilk 

cam 

^\'cl 

sicki 

Can 

cliicl 

liiie. 

pitif 

may 

like 

as  I 

anyi 

Ant 

the 

way, 

I  tell 


per  a 
tutli 
he  1 


I 


and  take  kcer  of  him, 

[lascif'ully." 

aid  her  haiultsomely  for 

J.S  her  yet  occasioniilly 

lich  ekeercd  him  most, 

es  one  night  when  he 

rith  her  head  wrojjpcd 


MIRAMICni. 


207 


\\c  went  to  the  Kenne 
After  liid  return,  he 
a<r  quite  an  extensive 
if  from  hid  old    hahits 
discountenances    thoin 
)U9  worship  constantly 
ling  the  Sabbath  day 
the  subject  of  educa^ 
t  was   his  opinion  that 
luf  among  the  people, 
ools.      There  'a  Jinny 
)  as  ever  was,  and  cf 
to  her  books,  like  a 
s  others,  most  as  smart 
i.'ia'.     1  fgel  the  want 
it." 
0  expectda  to  build  a 

i^ou  got  tired  of  that 
ere  we  have  had  so 
jjether?  " 


"Well,  no,  Captin';  I  hain't,  and  I'm  afeerd  I  shall 
never  like  another  place  ns  1  dew  that.  But  ye  sec,  ef  a 
filler  is  a  goin'  to  yil  merried,  he  'a  got  to  stir  rcound  and 
(lew  what  suits  other  Mka  as  well  as  hissclf." 

"  Married  I  jNlicah,"  I  said,  in  complete  astonishment, 
•'  are  you  going  to  be  married?" 

"  That's  jest  the  way  I  expected  yeoull  look,"  said  he, 
"  when  I-  told  ye  abeout  it,   because  ye  knew  I  used  to 
talk  agin  it,  like  fury.     But  ye  see,  Captin' ;  I  aint  just  aa 
I  used  to  be,  abeout  some  things.     I  '11   tell  ye  heow  it 
came  reound,  any  heow,  so  as  to  sahtisfy  ye  T  ain't  crazy. 
■\\'ell,  when'I  was  a  beginnin'  to  git  better  o'  that  terablo 
sickness,  the  fust  and  only  one  I  ever  had  in  my  life,  Miss  ' 
Campbell,  she  used  to  send  Jinny  up,  with  bits  o'  briled 
chicken,  nice  broth  and  sech,  to  kinder  tempt  my  appetite 
like.     The  little  critter  used  to  bring  'em  in  and  be  so 
pitiful  to  me  and  say,  do  ]Micah  try  to  eat  this,  so  that  you 
may  git  well ;  and  she  seemed  so  pooty,  sincere  and  nateral 
"kc  in  all  her  ways,  that  I  took  to  her  mightily,  specially 
as  I  had  n't  Miss  Adele  to  look  arter  and  chore  reound  for, 
any  more.     Once  or  twice,  when  she  came  to  bring  suthin,' 
Aiit  McXab  kinder  advised  her  to  do  this  and  that,  and 
the  way  the  leetle  critter  spunked  up  and  had  her  own 
way,  made  me  think  o'  Miss  Adele  and  pleased  me  some, 
I  tell  ye. 

'  Well,  arter  I  got  well,  she  seemed  to  be  just  as  chip- 
per and  pleasant  as  ever,  and  was  allers  glad  when  I  went 
lu  the  hcouse,  and  so  it  went  on  (I  won't  bother  abeout 
le  rest  on't)    till  six   montha  ago.     Aa  I  was  a  walkin' 


ill  I 


208 


MIUVMTCm. 


hum  from  n  mcctin'  at  the  Grove  with  licr,  she  scd,  '  whiit 
a  pooty  Grove  that  ia,  of  youra,  Miciih ; '  Witheout  a 
considcrin*  a  half  a  niinit,  I  Hcd,  right  away,  '  Jinny,  I'd 
give  ycou  that  Grove  and  all  I  have  bcaidc,  upon  one  condi- 
tion.' I  looked  at  her,  artcr  I  'd  sed  it,  as  skecrcd  as  I 
could  be,  fur  fear  she  M  ily  right  at  mc,  fur  sayin'  sech  a 
thing.  But  nhc  did  n't.  She  only  colored  up  awfully  and 
eed,  in  a  fluttered  kinder  way,  '  what  condition,  Micah?fc 

•  Pon  condition  that  you  'd  merry  me.  Jinny.'  You  may 
believe  that  arter  I  sed  that,  my  heart  stood  still,  better 'n 
a  minit.  She  didn't  say  a  word  at  fust,  eeemed  ruther 
took  by  surprise,  and  then,  all  of  a  sudding,  shcturned  Iier 
liead  and  looked  up  inter  my  face  as  sarcy  as  ye  ever  see 
anytliing,  and  says  she,  *  Do  yeou  think  I  'd  ever  merry  a 
man  with  sech  a  horrid  name  as  Mummyehog?  '  ♦  la  that 
all  the  objection  you  hev.  Jinny?'  ses  I.  Sea  she,  '  'Tia 
the  greatest,  I  know  of.'  Then  ses  I,  ♦  There  ain't  no 
ditlikilty,  for  my  name  aint  Mummyehog,  and  never  was. 
When  I  came  deown  to  this  kcntry,  I  was  a  wild,  reckless 
kind  of  a  critter,  and  I  thought  1  'd  take  some  outlandi.'^h 
name,  jest  for  the  joke  on  it.  I  took  Mummyehog,  and 
they  allers  called  me  so.     But  my  real  name  is  Jones.' 

•  Well,  Mr.  Jones,'  sea   she,    lookln '  sarcier  than  ever, 

•  I  shall  expect  yeou  to  hev  a  sign  painted  with  your  real 
name  on  it  and  put  up  on  your  store,  and  yeou  must  build 
a  new  heouse  before  I  merry  yeou.'  That  sobered  mo 
deown  a  leetle.  I  sed,  «  But  Jinny,  T  di>n't  want  ye  to 
merry  me,  unless  ye  like  me.  I  'II  build  a  heouse  and  gin 
it  tew  yc,  ef  that  'a  what  ye  want.     But  ye  need  n't  merry 


mc 

at  t 

lian 

nici 

i.uil 

]ilu( 

1  li 

Aiu 

nc(» 
i 

COUl 

choi 

bllO 

I'm 

sid'ii 
full] 
abcc 
So  ( 
tell 
Slie 
licet 
iiif  1 
utf, 
unyt 
A 
mesl 
iiuve 


:h  licr,  she  scd,  '  what 
^licuh  ;  *  Witlieout  n 
ht  nway,  '  Jinny,  I'd 
jsiilc,  upon  one  condi- 
il  it,  na  skccrcd  as  I 
i  mc,  fur  sayin'  ecch  a 
idorcd  up  awfully  and 
it  condition,  Micali?fc 
c,  Jinny.'  You  may 
•t  stood  still,  better 'n 
t  fust,  Bccnicd  ruthcr 
iddin'f,  shcturned  Iior 
9  sarcy  as  ye  ever  see 
link  I  'd  ever  merry  a 
unychog?  '  ♦  Is  that 
IS  I.  Ses  she,  '  'T  is 
ea  I,  ♦  There  ain't  no 
eliog,  and  never  was. 
[  was  a  wild,  reckless 
take  some  outlandi.^h 
ok  Mummychog,  and 
real  name  is  Jones.' 
i'  sarcier  than  ever, 
ainted  with  your  rcid 
,  and  yeou  must  build 
'  That  sobered  mo 
/,  I  don't  want  ye  to 
mild  a  heouse  and  gin 
But  ye  need  n't  merry 


Mm.uiiciii. 


209 


nic  unless  yn  like  mc  —  ncow  remember.'  She  looked 
at  mc,  jest  as  soon  as  I  scd  that,  and  caught  up  my  big 
hand  inter  her  litthj  one,  and  ses  she,  '  0  law,  Micah,  I  'd 
niorry  yc  ef  ycr  name  iims  Mununychog,  and  ye  need  n't 
liuild  a  licouso,  nor  nuthiu'.  I  ken  go  riglit  to  the  old 
]iliice  jest  as  well.  I'd  merry  ye  ef  ye  hadn't  n  cent,  for 
I  like  yo  better 'n  anybody  else  in  the  world,  IMicah.* 
And  then  she  began  to  cry,  and  I  hushed  her  up.  And  so, 
ncow  it 's  all  settled." 

"  Well  Micaii,"  said  I,  after  hearing  this  account  of  hia 
cuiirtship  of  Jenny  Campbell,  •'  I  congratulate  you  on  your 
clioice  ;  Jenny  is  a  good  girl  and  a  pretty  one.  But  la  n't 
t-lie  ratlier  young?  " 

"  Well,  yis.  I  thought  yeou  'd  be  spcakin'  o'  that. 
I  'ni  forty  year  old  and  she 's  abcout  eighteen,  or  so.  Con- 
sid'able  dilference  in  eour  ages.  I  told  her  abcout  that 
t'other  day,  and  she  scd,  well  she  did  n't  see  but  I  'peared 
abcout  as  young  as  she  did.  Slie  didn  't  see  much  difference. 
8o  ef  she  's  sahtisfied,  I'd  oughter  be.  But  Captin,'  I  '11 
tell  ye,  she's  a  curus  leetle  critter  as  ever  ye  see. 
She  lias  spells  of  playin'  off  all  kinds  o'  tricks  on  me  and 
hectorin'  me  every  way  she  ken,  but  the  minit  she  sees 
me  look  sober,  as  ef  I  felt  any  way  iJad,  she  leaves  right 
utf,  and  comes  up  and  kisses  me,  and  ses  she  didn't  mean 
iinytliing  by  it,  and  is  as  good  as  a  kitten." 

Alas  !  poor  Micah  !  You  see,  Miss  Adele,  he  is  in  the 
meshes,  and  there  we  must  leave  him  for  the  present.  I 
have  taken  pains  to  give  you  the  above  in  his  own  lan- 
18^ 


210 


MmAMinri. 


pimRc,  as  It  is  so  much  inoro  grnpliic  tlmn  any  I  cuuM 
employ. 

My  letter  of  Mlnimiclii  f^ossip  hiis  swollen,  uncoascioiiJ'ly, 
to  nn  enunnourt  bIzc,  uiul  I  feiir  I  urn  jjettin^  tedioii.s.  IK; 
piuienf  II  lew  ininute"  Itiigi  r,  dear  friends),  while  I  tell  yuu 
of  Mr.  .lolin  Liu..'  d.  i  ■>. 

I  happened  ii  tho  uity  ol  V  —  liint  winter,  on  hnsinesn, 
and  juHt  'icf'orc  lo.tving  town  I  wont  to  call  on  Mr.  Lan.^- 
downe.  Aunt  Esther,  Mr.  John's  nurse,  an  Ofjjcd  ne;,'ro 
wouiiin  who  hu8  b<en  a  nicniher  of  the  hou.^elioM  many 
years,  annwerod  my  rinp  at  the  door.  FIndin;,'  that  nunc 
of  the  family  were  at  home,  1  was  tm-nini,'  to  leave  wlh'u 
Aunt  Esther  Iv  jrijed  mc  toeomc  in,  .sayinj,'  she  reckoned  they 
would  soon  he  l)a(!k,  as  they  had  already  heen  several  Iniurs 
absent,  adding,  good  soul,  that  "they'd  all  ho  drelFuUy 
dinapinted  not  to  see  mc." 

I  knew  that  several  months  prior  to  this,  Mr.  Lans- 
downe  had  heen  iidmitted  to  the  practice  of  law  and  had 
become  junior  partner  in  business,  to  the  distinguished  Mr. 
Eldon  of  P.  And  I  now  gathered  from  Aunt  Esther, 
that  the  Supreme  Court  was  in  session,  and^hat  a  great 
criminal  case  was  being  tried  before  the  jury.  Mr.  Ehlon 
had  been  taken  ill,  just  before  the  trial  came  on,  and 
had  urged  Mr.  Lansdowne  to  take  his  place  In  Court, 
saying,  he  could  arguo  the  case  as  well  us  himself.  Mr. 
John,  as  Aunt  Esther  informed  mc,  lid  it  with  great  reluc- 
tance, though  she  didn't  see  why.  lie  always  docs 
everyt'*  '"he  sets  out  to  do,  'markable  nice.  But  Massa 
and  Missus  felt  kind  of  anxious,  and  thoyv'e  gone  into 


C( 

I  I 
tal 


fo' 
tl> 
Ji 
II 

t*ii 
to 
tu 


fii 


y 

w 
tc 

S 

S( 

y 


Miitvsrirni. 


911 


lie  timn  any  I  could 

,'(>ll(>n,  uncDiucioii-'ly, 
jjcttiny  U'dious.  IJo 
•iidM,  while  I  tell  you 

winltT,  on  hiisliicsH, 
:o  cull  on  Mr.  L!iiif<- 
iiirao,  an  nj^cd  nr^^ro 
the  liou.selinld  iniiiiy 
Findinf^  tlmt  noiio 
wniM^'  to  k'iivo  wlh'u 
iiij,'  she  reckoned  the  y 
ily  been  tfoveral  hours 
ey  'd  till  bo  drelluUy 

'  to  this,  yiv.  Liins- 
Jtioo  of  law  and  hud 
ho  dlstinguiyhcd  Mr. 

from  Aunt  Esther, 
on,  and«thiit  u  <;rcat 
lie  jury.  Mr.  Ehlon 
!  trial  came  on,  and 

his  place  In  Court, 
ell  aa  himself.  Mr. 
id  it  with  great  reluc- 
He  always  docs 
lo  nice.  Vnit  Massa 
id  thcyv'e  gone  into 


Court,  with  other  gemmon  and  Indien,  to  hew  how  't  goes. 
1  feel  no  conccni  uLwmt  it.  I  kno  v  he'll  make  a  splen'id 
talk,  tmyhow,  ws  he  always  docs," 

After  waiting  half  an  hour,  I  was  obliged  t<>  ''ti^vo 
nii'ssagea  of  regret  with  An  it   Kftlier  lUid  hasten  hoi«    . 

I  observed  in  •'  The  Ea-itcrn  (lazctte  "  of  «t«o 
following  wceh,  a  notice  <«f  Mr.  Lansdowne'«  pies*  befor 
the  jury,  in  the  great  ease  of  ••  The  Cominonwenlth  »'«■ 
Jenkins,"  in  whicli  he  wiw  eulogized  in  the  hiirhoHt  rms. 
lie  waa  said  to  have  di-iphiyed  "  great  lu  nnen,  t  '«n- 
cive  legal  acquirement  ,  and  niagniliocnt  powers  of  .»«»- 
tory."  So,  Aunt  Estli-  r's  conlidenec,  about  the  "  s^/U-n'i' 
(alk,"  was  not  without  ;    reasonable  basis. 

1  was  highly  grati&«!u    myself,  in  reading  the  flatter*' 
paragraphs.     You  know     e  idl  greatly  admired  the  yuan 
gentleman    at    ^Miramiehi        lie    has    a   brilliant    earths 
futillfc  before  him,  should    his  life  ami  faculli's  be  spared 

Micah  was  much  eharmctl  with  the  intelligcu  .c  1  brougl* 
him  of  his  old  favorite. 

•'  I  ain't  a  mite  surprised  it  what  youv'c  sea  abcout  the 
yotmg  man.  Ever  eenco  I  t.  >)k  tlmt  trip  inter  the  woods 
with  him,  I  know'd  he'd  the  gcnooinc  ring  o'  trew  metal 
tew  him.  When  he  gits  to  be  President  o'  the  United 
States,  I  shall  sell  cout  here  ami  go  hum  to  the  Kennebec." 

Please  let  me  hear  from  you  soon,  my  dear  friends.  It 
seems  long  since  1  have  h.'d  tiil  ngs  from  you. 

With  an  abiding  gratitude  fo  [last  kindness,  shown  by 
you  to  a  weary  wanderer  fr  n  home,  and  with  the 
warmest  respect  and  friendship,  ^  remain  as  ever, 

Yours  truly, 

Samuel  J.  Norton. 


Ull 


212 


IMIIIAMICIII. 


IMrs.  Dubois  not  having  hut  one  pair  of  eyes,  and  those 
being  fully  oecui)icd  with  the  contents  of  the  above  letter, 
and  the  Count  do  Rossillon  remaining  asleep  during  the  en- 
tire reading,  of  course  it  could  not  he  expected  that  they 
observed  the  changes  that  took  place  on  Adele's  counte- 
nance. But- an  author,  as  is  well  known,  has  ways  and 
means  of  observation  not  common  to  others,  and  here  it 
may  be  remarked,  that  that  young  lady's  face,  had  exhib- 
ited, during  the  last  fifteen  minutes,  or  more,  quite  a  variety 
of  emotions.  It  had  at  first,  been  thoughtful  and  interest- 
ed, then  lighted  with  smiles,  then  radiant  with  enjoyment 
of  the  good  missionary's  sketches  of  Mrs.  McNab  and 
Micah.  But  the  moment  her  mother  read  the  name  of 
John  Lansdowne,  her  face  was  suffused  with  a  deep  crim- 
son, and  she  listened  almost  breathlessly,  and  with  glisten- 
ing eyes,  to  the  close. 

"  Oh  I  the  good  noble  man  !"  said  Mrs.  Dubois,  as  she 
folded  up  the  sheets.  "  It  will  please  your  father  to  read 
this,  where  ia  he,  Adele?" 

'«He  rode  away  with  Pierre,  not  long  ago.  Please  let 
me  take  the  letter.  I  must  read  it  again,"  said  Adele, 
having  conquered  her  emotion,  without  her  mother  perceiv- 


mg  it. 


She  took  it  away  to  her  own  boudoir,  and  as  she  read 
the  pages,  the  flowing  tears  fell  fast.  Why  sliould  she 
weep  over  such  a  cheerful  letter  as  that  ?     Why  ? 


th 
C 

dc 

I" 
of 

th 
h{ 

1" 
t'l] 

cc 

of 

cl 

cc 


th 

ai 


of  eyes,  and  those 
jf  the  above  letter, 
sleep  (luring  the  en- 
!  expected  that  they 
on  Adele's  counte- 
own,  has  ways  and 
others,  and  here  it 
y'a  face,  had  exhib- 
lore,  quite  a  variety 
ghtful  and  interest- 
ant  with  enjoyment 
JMrs.  McNab  and 
read  the  name  of 
I  with  a  deep  crim- 
r,  and  with  glisten- 

[rs.  Dubois,  as  she 
>'our  father  to  read 

?  ago.  Please  let 
jain,"  said  Adele, 
ler  mother  perceiv- 

r,  and  as  she  read 
Why  should  she 
Why? 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE  LAST   SLEEP. 

Ad^le  had  long  since  discovered  that  the  events  of 
greatest  interest  in  her  life  had  transpired  before  she  entered 
the  walls  of  Rossillon,  or  mingled  in  the  festivities  of  the 
Court  at  Paris. 

The  scenes  that  occurred  at  ]VIiramichi,  during  Mr.  Lans- 
downe's  accidental  residence  there,  were  fraught  with  a 
power  over  her  heart,  continually  deepening  with  the  flight 
of  time.  Those  golden  days,  when  their  lives  flowed  side 
by  side,  had  been  filled  with  the  strange,  sweet  agitations, 
the  aerial  dreams,  the  bewitching  glamour,  the  intoxicating 
happiness  of  a  first  and  youthful  love.  Those  days  were  im- 
printed yet  more  deeply  in  her  memory  by  a  consciousness 
that  there  was  somewhat  with  which  to  reproach  herself, 
connected  with  them.  Just  when  she  had  reached  the  top 
of  bliss,  her  pride  had  sprung  up,  and  like  a  dark  storm- 
cloud,  had  shadowed  the  scene.  She  could  not  forget  that 
cold,  sad  parting  from  her  lover. 

And  now,  though  the  oeean  rolled  between  them,  and 
the  spheres  in  vvhich  each  moved  were  so  widely  separated 
and  the  years  had  come  and  gone,  she  was  yet  calculating 


214 


MIRAJIICin. 


f 


and  balancing  the  probabilities,  that  they  might  meet  again 
and  tiic  wrong  of  the  pas^t  be  cancelled. 

jVIr.  Lansdowne  had  been  plodding  among  musty  law 
books  and  threading  legal  intricacies,  with  ..ccasioual  in- 
terrnptions,  caused  by  fits  of  impatience  and  disgust  at  the 
detail  and  tedium  of  study,  until  he  had  at  length  fought 
his  way  through  and  placed  himself  in  the  fro°nt  rank  of 
his   profession.     His  brilliant  achievement  in  the  famous 
Jenkins  case,  in  the  outset  of  his  career,  had  at  once  won 
for  him  a  position  at  the  bar  which  most  young  men  have 
to  toil  years  to  obtain.     His  family  was  wealthy  and  influ- 
ential.    It  was   not  strange  that  with  these  advantages, 
imited  to  the  possession  of  remarkable  personal  beauty,  he 
should  be  the  centre  of  a  numerous  group  of  friends  and 
admirers.      He    was   the    object    of    pride     among    the 
older  barristers  and  gentlemen  of  the  bench,  the  cynosure 
of  the  young  men,  and  the  one  among   a,  thousand  whom 
elegant  mammas    and  smiling  maidens  wooed  with  their 
eclectest  influences. 

Yet  one  great  element  of  earthly  happiness  was  wanting 
to  his  life.  He  could  not  forget  the  enchantment  of  those 
days  spent  in  the  far-oflf  wilds  of  Miramlchi.  He  turned 
continually  to  those  scenes,  as  the  most  prominent  of  his 
existence.  There  he  had  stepped  from  boyhood  into  man- 
hood. There  he  had  seen  life  in  new  and  before  untried 
forms.  He  had  there  witnessed  a  wonderful  display  of 
God's  power  through  the  terrible  agency  of  the  all-devour- 
ing  flame,  and  there,  for  the  first  time,  he  had  confronted 
death  and  sorrow.      There,  he  had  loved  once  and  as  ho 


y 

a 
fi 
tl: 
h( 

h 

pn 
ail 
ca 
of 

an 
spi 
<iV( 
pro 


I 


ey  might  meet  again 

I. 

:  among  musty  law 

with  '.ccasioual  in- 
;e  and  disgust  at  the 
d  at  leni^tij  fouirht 
1  the  front  rank  of 
neut  in  the  famuua 
r,  had  at  once  won 
st  young  men  have 
I  wealtliy  and  influ- 

these  advantages, 
personal  beauty,  he 
oup  of  friends  and 
iride  among  the 
ench,  the  cynosure 

a  thousand  whom 

wooed  with  their 

)ines3  was  wantincr 
hantment  of  those 
nichi.  Pie  turned 
t  prominent  of  his 
•oyhood  into  man- 
md  before  untried 
aderful  display  of 
of  the  all-devour- 
lic  had  confronted 
d   once  and  as  he 


MIUAMICITI. 


215 


toheved  forever.     He  recalled  Adelc,  as  she  first  appeared 
t.ofore   hnn,_  an  unexpected  vision  of  beauty,  in  all  her 
careless  grace  and  sweet,  confiding  frankness  ;  in  her  mo- 
ments of  stately  pride,  when  she  chilled  him  from  lu,r  side 
and  kept  him  afar  oflT;  and  in  her  moments  of  affectionate 
kindness,  and  generous  enthusiasm.     In  short,  in  all  her 
changeful  moods  she    was  daily  flitting  before  him  and  he 
confessed  to  himself,  that  he  had  never  met  a  bein^  so  rich 
.n  nature  and  varied  in  powers,  so  noble  in  impulse  and 
purpose,  so  peerlessly  beautiful  in  person.       - 

Thus  he  lived  on  fro.n  day  to  day,  rememberin-  and 
jearnmg  and  dreaming,  _  the  ocean  yawning  between  him 
and  his  love.  Concealed  in  the  depths  of  his  soul,  there 
was,  however,  a  hope  fondly  cherished,  and  a  purpose  half 
lonned. 

A  few  weeks  after  the  reception  of  Mr.  Norton's  letter 
the  Count  de  Rossillon  died.  Sitting,  as  usual,  in  his 
great  purple-cushioned  arm-chair,  taking  his  afternoon  nap, 
he  expired  so  gently  that  Mrs.  Dubois,  who  was  readino- 
by  the  window,  did  not  know,  or  even  suspect,  when  the 
partuig  between  spirit  and  body  occurred.  Kindly,  crenial 
and  peaceful  had  been  his  last  years,  and  his  life  went  out 
calmly  as  the  light  of  day  goes  out  amid  the  mellow  tints 
of  a  pleasant  autumn  sunset. 

When  Mrs.  Dubois  went  to  arouse  him  from  what  seemci 

an  unusually  long  slumber,  she  found  a  volume  of  Fonelon 

q)read  open  upon  his  knee,  and  turning  it.,  her  eye  ran 

«ivcr  passages  full  of  lofty  and  devout  aspiration.     These, 

proba^lv  expressed  the  latest  thoughts  and  desires  of  the 


21G 


Mm.v3ucin. 


good  chevalier,  for  as  she  looked  from  the  pages  to  his 
face,  turned  upward  toward  the  ceiling,  a  smile  of  assent 
and  satisfaction  was  still  lingering  there,  although  his 
breath  had  departed  and  his  pulse  was  still. 

Mrs.  Dubois  stooped  to  kiss  the  forehead  of  her  uncle, 
but  started  back  with  a  sudden  thrill  of  fear.  She  gazed 
searchingly  at  him  for  a  moment,  and  then  she  knew  that 
Death,  the  conqueror,  stood  there  with  her,  looking  upon 
his  completed  work. 

After  the  first  shock  of  surprise  was  over,  she  remained 
gazing  upon  the  spectacle  in  perfect  silence.  A  truly 
devout  Catholic,  in  her  grief  she  leaned  with  all  a 
woman's  trust  and  confidingndss  upon  the  love  and  power 
of  Christ,  and  something  of  the  divine  calmness  which 
■we  associate  wiLl;  the  character  of  the  mother  of  our  Lord, 
and  which  has  been  so  wonderfully  depicted  to  the  eye  by 
some  of  the  older  painters,  pervaded  her  spirit. 

As  she  thus  stood,  spellbound,  entranced,  her  eyes 
fixed  upon  the  noble  features  irradiated  with  a  smile  of 
content  and  peace,  the  long  silvery  locks  parted  away  from 
the  forehead  and  flowing  around  the  head,  like  a  halo,  she 
thought  it  the  countenance  of  a  saint,  and  her  poetic  fancy 
created  at  once  a  vision  of  the  Saviour,  with  an  aspect 
grand,  glorious,  yet  gracious  and  benign,  placing  with 
His  right  hand  a  golden  jewelled  crown  upon  her  uncle's 
head.  A  cloud  swept  up  over  the  gorgeous  earthliness  of 
the  great  Rubens  picture,  and  from  out  its  folds  shone 
sweet  and  smiling  angel  faces,  looking  down  upon  ihe 
ecoue. 


MiRAjncm. 


217 


•om  the  pages  to  his 
ing,  a  smile  of  assent 

there,  although   his 
3  still, 
archcad  of  her  uncle, 

of  fear.  She  gazed 
d  then  she  knew  that 
th  her,  looking  upon 

is  over,  she  remained 
;t  silence.  A  truly 
leaned  with  all  a 
n  the  love  and  power 
k^ine  calmness  which 
3  mother  of  our  Lord, 
lepicted  to  the  eye  by 

her  spirit. 

entranced,  her  eyes 
uted  with  a  smile  of 
cks  parted  away  from 
head,  like  a  halo,  she 
,  and  her  poetic  fancy 
iour,  with  an  aspect 
)enign,  placing  with 
)wn  upon  her  uncle's 
orgeous  earthliness  of 
I  out  its  folds  shone 
:ing  down    upon    ihe 


Mrs.  Dubois  never  knew  how  long  she  remained  thus  ab- 
sorbed. She  was  first  aroused  by  hearing  a  voice  sayin^', 
in  tones  of  fervor,  *«  How  blessed  it  is  to  die  1  "  And 
Adele,  who  had  entered  the  room  a  little  time  before,  and 
had  uttered  these  words,  stepped  forward  and  imprinted  a 
kiss  upon  the  pale  uplifted  brow  of  the  sleeper. 


I 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 


pojirEii. 


About  this  period,  Mrs.  Lansdowne,  whose  health  had 
been  declining  for  nearly  a  year,  was  urgently  advised  by 
her  physician  to  seek  a  milder  climate.  John  immediately 
offered  himself  as  her  comjiagmn  dc  voyage,  and  manifested 
great  alacrity  in  the  preparations  for  their  departure  for 
Italy. 

After  a  favorable  sea  passage,  they  landed  at  Civita 
Vccchia,  and,  with  brief  delays  at  Rome  and  Naples,  went 
to  Sorrento,  intending  to  remain  there  several  months. 

This  place  combines  the  most  striking  peculiarities  of 
Italian  scenery.  It  stands  on  a  wide  and  beautiful  plain, 
shut  in  by  the  mountains  and  the  sea.  The  fertile  soil 
produces  oranges,  lemons,  grapes,  and  figs  of  the  richest 
quality  and  in  great  abundance.  The  coast  line,  a  wall  of 
volcanic  rock,  is  broken  into  varied  forms,  by  the  constant 
action  of  the  waters.  Here,  they  spent  day  after  day,  ram- 
bling about  the  ol(ttown,  making  excursions  into  the  neigh- 
boring mountains,  or  crossing  the  bay  to  different  points 
of  interest.  They  delighted  particularly  m  sailing  under 
the  shadow  of  the  cliffs,  watching  the  varying  colors,  blue, 
purple,  and  green,  presented  by  the  glassy  surface,  peering 


b( 
til 
cl 
ill 
(lii 

80 

lis 
sai 

ga 
br, 

mc 

Jo 

ex( 

( 

tov 
mu 

t\V( 

tioi 
the 
city 
moi 
pec 

into 

<i 

wbc 


I 


n. 


rne,  whose  health  had 
8  urgently  advised  by 
3.  John  immediately 
mjage,  and  manifested 
)r  their  departure  for 

hey  landed  at  Civita 
)me  and  Naples,  went 
:e  several  months, 
riking  peculiarities  of 
le  and  beautiful  plain, 
sea.  The  fertile  soil 
md  figs  of  the  richest 
le  coast  line,  a  wall  of 
brms,  by  the  constant 
nt  day  after  day,  ram- 
irsions  into  the  neigh- 
ly  to  different  points 
darly  in  sailing  under 
!  varying  colors,  blue, 
lassy  surface,  peering 


MIIUMICIir. 


219 


into  the  arched  caverns,  worn  into  the  rock  by  the  waves 
and  looking  upward  at  the  gay  profusion  of  wild  flowers, 
which,  growing  in  every  crevice,  adorned  its  face  with 
beauty.     From  the  balcony  of  the  house  they  occupied, 
they  looked  upon  gardens,  invisible  from  the  street,  so 
closely  were  they  walled  in  from  the  view  of  the  passer  by, 
and  beheld  orange  and  lemon  trees,  with  rounded  tops  of 
(lark  green  foliage,  golden  fruit,  and  snowy  blossoms.    The 
soft  air  permitted    them  to   sit  during  the   evenings  and 
listen  to  the  whisper  of  the  sea  on  the  beach,  to  watch  the 
sails  of  the  fishing  vessels  gleaming  in  the  moonlight,  and 
gaze  at  the  dark  form  of  Vesuvius,  with  liis  lighted  torch, 
brooding  at  a  distance,  over  the  scene. 

A  month  had  thus  passed  away.  A  marked  improve- 
ment had  taken  place  in  Mrs.  Lansdowne's  health,  and 
John  proposed  that  they  should  go  to  Naijles  and  make  an 
excursion  thence  to  Pompeii. 

One  morning,  they  drove  out  from  the  swarming  city 
toward  those    famous  ruins,  revealing  to  the  curious  so 
much  of  the  old  Roman  civilization.      After  a  drive  of 
twelve  miles   past  fields  of  lava  and  ashes,  the  accumula- 
tions from  recent  irruptions  of  Vesuvius,  they  arrived  at 
the   street  of  tombs,  a  fitting  entrance  to  the  desolated 
city.     Here,   the  beautifully  sculptured  monuments,  me- 
morials of  a  departed  generation,  awoke  in  then"  hearts  a 
peculiar  interest.      Through  these  they  entered    at  once 
into  the  inner  life  of  joys  and  aorrows  of  an  extinct  race. 
"  How  terrible  death  must  have  been  to  these  people, 
whose  ideas  of  the  future  world  were  so  vague  and  unsatis- 


220 


HIinAMICIII. 


I 


fyinjz,  and  who  liad  really  no  knowledge  of  immortality !  " 
said  Mrs.  Lansduwi"^. 

"Yes,"  replied  John.  "And  with  nothing  brighter 
ov  more  glorious  to  look  forward  to  in  the  beyond,  how 
reluctant  they  must  have  felt  to  leave  these  glowing  skies, 
this  delicious  air,  these  scenes  of  beauty  and  art,  for  the 
darkness  of  the  grave.  I  fancy  it  nmst  have  been  harder 
for  them  than  if  they  had  been  surrounded  with  the  sombre 
tints,  the  chilling  atmosphere,  and  the  more  subdued  forms 
of  life  in  our  own  clime." 

Leaving  the  cemetery,  they  passed  on  through  the 
narrow  streets,  paved  with  blocks  of  lava,  on  which  were 
the  traces  of  carriage  wheels  worn  into  the  material  more 
than  eighteen  hundred  years  ago.  They  went  into  the 
Pompeian  houses,  walked  over  the  marble  mosaic  floors, 
looked  at  the  paintings  on  the  walls,  examined  the  bronzes, 
the  statues,  the  domestic  utensils,  the  shop  of  the  oil  mer- 
chant, with  his  name  on  Jl  still  legible,  until,  in  imagina- 
tion, they  began  to  people  the  solitude, — bringing  back 
the  gay,  luxurious,  beauty-loving  Pompeians  again  to  live 
and  revel  in  their  former  haunts. 

At  length,  quite  exhaii  ted,  Mrs.  Lansdowne  sank  down 
on  a  seat  in  one  of  the  porticoes,  and  John,  placing  himself 
by  her  side,  tempted  her  to  partake  of  a  lunch  he  had 
provided  for  the  occasion. 

Soon,  the  pensive  influences  of  the  scene  stole  over  them, 
and  they  sat  for  some  time  in  perfect  silence. 

Mrs.  Lansdowne  first  interrupted  it,  by  exclaiming, 
"  John,  what  are  you  thinking  of  ?" 


r 

(,f 
re 
th 
w! 

sn 

th 
th 

80 
CC 
th 

OE 

pn 

•im 
or 
b^ 
ca 


hi 
hi 


I 


MIRAMICni. 


221 


(Ige  of  imniortnllty  !  " 

vith  nothing  brighter 
i  in  the  beyond,  how 
e  these  glowing  akiets, 
Jiiuty  and  art,  for  the 
uist  have  been  harder 
inded  with  the  sombre 
le  more  subdued  forms 

3sed  on  through  the 
■  lava,  on  which  were 
ato  the  material  more 
They  went  into  the 
marble  mosaic  floors, 
examined  the  bronzes, 
le  shop  of  the  oil  mer- 
ble,  until,  in  iraagina- 
ude, — bringing  back 
>miJei;\ns  again  to  live 

Lansdowne  sank  down 
IJohn,  placing  himself 
ke  of  a  lunch  he  had 

!  scene  stole  over  them, 
silence, 
id   it,  by   exclaiming, 


«♦  Thinking  of  I  why  I  was  thinking  just  then  how  those 
rompeiiins  used  to  sit  in  these  porticoes  and  talk  of  the  dccda 
of  Cajsar  and  of  the  eloquence  of  Cicero,  while  thoso 
renowned  men  were  yet  living,  and  how  they  discussed 
tlic  great  combats  in  the  amphitheatres  of  Rome.  And 
wliat  were  you  cogitating,  my  dear  mother?"  said  he, 
smiling. 

•'  Oh  !  I  was  thinking  woman's  thoughts.  How  slowly 
they  excavate  here  I  I  have  an  extreme  curiosity  to  know 
vvhat  there  is,  yet  uncovered  to  the  light  of  day,  beyond 
that  dead  wall  of  ashes." 

*'  If  I  were  a  magician,  I  would  apply  to  your  eyes 
some  unguent,  which  should  unveil  what  is  there  con- 
cealed," said  John,  smiling.  "Will  you  go  now  to  the 
theatre?" 

He  drew  his  mother's  arm  within  his,  and  they  moved 
on.  That  portion  of  the  city  appeared  as  if  it  had  been 
partially  destroyed  by  a  conflagration. 

Looking  towards  Vesuvius,  he  said#<'I  can  easily 
•imagine  the  sensations  of  those  who  gazed  at  the  volcano 
on  that  terrible  day  and  saw  for  the  first  time  its  flamca 
bursting  out,  and  throwing  their  horrid  glare  on  the  snow- 
capped mountains  around.     Fire  is  a  tremendous  element." 

As  he  uttered  the  words,  the  scene  of  the  great  confla- 
gration at  Miramichi  rose  to  his  view. 

"  Salve  !  Salve  !  "  exclaimed  a  rich,  musical  voice  near* 
him,  just  at  that  moment.  • 

Tiie  word  and  the  tone  In  which  It  was  uttered,  thrilled 
liim,  like  an  electric  shock.    He  looked,  with  a  bewildered 


222 


MIUAMICIII. 


nir,  in  the  direction  from  whence  the  voice  proceeded,  and 
Bttw,  Htandinjjf  before  tiic  threshold  of  one  of  the  I'onipeinii 
houses,  n  tall,  elegant  fenmlc  figure,  habited  in  mourning. 

Her  eyc8  were  fixed  upon  the  word  of  salutation,  written 
on  the  thre'^hold,  at  the  entrance.  After  contoniplating  It 
n  moment,  nhc  turned  her  head  involuntarily  towards  Mr. 
Lansdownc,  who  stood  transfixed  to  the  spot.  Their  eyes 
met  in  instant  recognition.  Neither  moved  —  they  were 
both  paralyzed  with  sudden  emotion. 

Mrs.  Lanadownc  looked  up  in  surprise. 

•'  What  is  it,  John?" 

♦'  It  Is,"  said  he,  recovering  himself,  "  it  Is,  that  I  am 
astonished  to  meet  here,  so  unexpecteflly,  a  friend  whom 
I  supposed  to  be  in  France  —  certainly  not  here." 

lie  led  his  mother  forward  a  few  steps  and  presented  her 
to  iVIudemoisclle  Dubois. 

M.  and    Mdmo.    Dubois,    who  were   standing  n  little 
apart,  examining  some  objects  of  interest,  while  this  scene 
of  recognition  tMnspired,  now  joined  the  group  and  were 
presented  to  Mrs.  Lansdowne.     During  the  remainder  of« 
the  day,  the  two  families  formed  one  party. 

They  visited  the  ruined  theatre,  the  Forum,  the  temples 
of  Isis  and  Hercules,  but  the  spell  of  Pompeii  no  longer 
bound  the  souls  of  John  and  Adele.  It  is  true,  they 
walked  on,  sometimes  side  by  aide,  sometimes  with  other 
forms  between,  absorbed,  entranced ;  but  a  spirit  more 
potent  than  jftiy  inb  ibiting  the  walls  of  the  old  Koman  city 
had  touched  the  powers  of  their  being  and  woven  its  sor- 
ceries around  them.  The  living  present  had  suddenly  shut 
out  the  past. 


MinAMICIII. 


22.1 


i  voice  pronecded,  aiiil 
f  one  of  the  Pompciiiri 
,  Imbitcd  in  mourning;. 
I  ot'suliitiition,  written 
Alter  contoniplalin;;  it 
)luntiirily  towiinls  Mr. 
>  the  spot.  Their  eyes 
•  moved  —  they  were 

prise. 

ielf,  "it  is,  thiit  I  iiin 
;;teflly,  a  friend  whom 
inly  not  here." 
teps  and  presented  her 

vcre   standing  n  little 
terest,  while  this  scene 
J  the  group  and  were 
iring  the  remainder  of* 
!  party. 

le  Forum,  the  temples 
of  Pompeii  no  longer 
lele.  It  is  true,  they 
,  sometimes  with  other 
d ;  but  a  spirit  more 
of  the  old  Roman  city 
ng  and  woven  its  sor- 
sent  had  suddenly  shut 


So,  after  three  years,  they  had  met.  Such  meetings 
are  critical.  In  the  liip?o  of  time,  what  changes  may  oc- 
cur I  There  \n  so  much  in  life  to  mar  the  loveliest  and 
noMcst !  In  regard  to  character,  of  course  no  one  can  stand 
Htill.  There  is  either  a  process  of  deterioration  going 
on,  or  a  work  of  intellectual  and  spiritual  advancement. 
Memory  and  imagination  glorify  the  absent  and  the  dead. 
Tiie  lovers  had  been  constantly  exercising,  respecting  each 
other,  their  faculty  of  idealization.  When  they  parted,  they 
were  young,  with  limited  experiences  of  life,  with  slight 
knowledge  of  their  own  hearts.  It  was  a  dangerous  mo- 
ment when  they  thus  met. 

But  there  was  no  disappointment.  ^Ir.  *Lansdowno 
gazed  upon  Adele,  with  emotions  of  surprise  and  astonish- 
ment at  the  change  a  few  years  had  wrought  in  her  and 
marvelled  at  the  perfection  of  her  beauty  and  manner. 

Adele,  albeit  she  was  not  used  to  the  reverential  mood, 
experienced  an  emotion  almost  verging  into  awe,  mingled 
witli  her  admiration  of  the  noble  form,  the  dignity  and 
stately  grace  of  him  who  had  so  charmed  her  girlish  days. 

Thus  the  acquaintance,  broken  off,  in  that  cold,  re- 
strained morning  adieu,  on  the  banks  of  the  Miramichi,  was 
renewed  under  the  sunny,  joyous  sky  of  Italy.  Theic 
communion  with  one  another  was  now  no  longer  marred  by 
youthful  waywardness  and  caprice.  During  those  long 
years  of  separation,  they  had  learned  so  thoroughly  the 
miseries  attending  the  alienation  of  truly  loving  hearts, 
that  there  was  no  inclination  on  the  part  of  either,  to  trifle 
now.  Day  by  day,  the  hours  they  spent  together  be- 
came sweeter,  dearer,  more  full  of  love's  cucliantment. 


224 


MIIIAMICUI. 


«•  MadomoiBcUc  Dubois,"  ».ild  M''-  T^iinadowno,  a  few 
weeks  after  their  rcc()<,'nition  at  PoiMpijii,  "I  tliink  I  did 
nut  <iuitc  do  juHtlcc  to  that  famouM  excavated  city,  wlieii  1 
vi<«ited  it.  I  was  8o  occupied  with  tlic  plca'^itre  of  in.'cliiij,' 
old  friends  that  I  really  did  not  cxaiiiino  ol.jccts  with  tlio 
attention  they  deserve.  To-ini.rrow  I  intend  to  reviHit  the 
epi.t  and  make  amends  for  my  neglect.  Will  yuii  give  mo 
the  pleasure  of  your  company  ?  " 

♦•  Thank  you,  Mr.  Lansdownc,  I  shall  be  happy  to  go 
with  yt>u.  A  week  spent  there,  could  not  exhaust  the  in- 
terest of  the  place." 

The  two  families  were  still  at  Naples  and  from  that  city 
INlr.  Lansdowue  and  Adelc  started  again  to  visit  Pompeii. 
No  evidence,  as  to  the  amount  of  antifjuarian  lore  ac- 
quired on  that  day  by  our  two  lovers  has  yet  transpired, 
but  it  is  certain  that,  while  wandering  an)ong  the  ruins,  they 
came  before  the  threshold  of  the  door,  where  Adelc  was 
standing,  when  first  recognized  by  Ur.  Lansdownc. 
There,  he  gently  detained  her,  and  explained,  how  that 
ancient  solute  of  welcome  to  the  guest  and  the  stranger, 
when  uttered  by  her  lips,  had  thrilled  his  heart ;  how  it  had 
been  treasured  there  as  an  omen  of  good  for  the  future, 
and  how  the  memory  of  it  now  emboldened  him  to  speak 
the  words  be  was  about  to  utter.  There,  within  sight  of 
Vesuvius  and  v/ith  the  fiery  memories  of  Miramichi  hanging 
upon  the  hour,  he  renewed  the  avowal  of  bis  love,  first 
made  in  the  haste  and  cflTervescence  of  youthful  passion. 

And  now,  Adelc  did  not,  as  then,  fly  from  his  presence. 
She  simply  put  her  hand  in  his,  and  pronounced  in 
sweet  and  almost  solemn  accents,  the  irrevocable  promise. 


Min.vMtf  iir. 


225 


r.  Lun««lt)wno,  a  few 
Hioii,  *'  I  think  I  did 
Kcnviitod  city,  wlioii  1 
ic  plotHuro  of  meeting' 
miiio  idjccts  with  tlio 
1  intc'utl  to  rcviwit  the 
!t.     Will  you  give  mo 

phull  be  hnppy  to  go 
Id  not  exhaust  the  in- 
ks and  from  that  city 
igain  to  visit  Pompeii, 
f  untifjuarian  lore  ac- 
■B  has  yet  transpired, 
;  among  the  ruins,  they 
[)or,  where  Adelc  was 
by  Mr.  Lansdownc. 
I  cxphiincd,  how  that 
cat  and  tlio  stranger, 
il  his  heart ;  how  it  had 
f  good  for  the  future, 
boldened  him  to  speak 
There,  within  sight  of 
)  of  Mlramichi  hanging 
owal  of  his  love,  first 
of  youthful  passion. 
,  fly  from  his  presence. 

and    pronounced    in 
le  irrevocable  promise. 


In  the  mean  time,  Mrs.  Lan><downc  had  boon  rultlvatuj'r 
the  friendsliip  of  M.  and  Mdinc.  Dubois.  She  was  grati- 
fied to  have  an  oppurtunify  of  thanking  tiicni  in  person, 
fur  tlioir  lioHpItidity  and  kindnexs  to  lier  sou  and  brother 
ill  Miramic.'hi.  Ilcr  pntfoiind  gratltiitU'  for  attentions  to 
tliose  HO  dear  to  her,  would  have  proved  a  bond  of  sufH- 
cicnt  strength  to  unite  her  to  these  new  acquaintances. 
r»ut  she  was  attracted  to  tlioin  also  by  traits  of  mind  and 
oliaracter  unfolded  in  their  daily  intercourse. 

The  discovery  of  John's  attachment  to  Adelo  exiilaincd 
many  things  in  his  conduct,  during  the  last  few  years,  that 
liad  appeared  enigmatical.  With  this  fact  made  clear  to 
her  mind,  it  may  well  be  sup|)OHcd  that  she  o!)aervetl  the 
young  lady  with  keen  scrutiny.  At  the  end  of  a  week, 
John  confessed  his  intention  to  win  Adcle  if  pos8il)lo  for 
his  wife.  His  mother  had  no  objection  to  such  an  alliance, 
and  only  wished  hint  success  in  his  cfTbrts. 

Haying  spent  six  weeks  together  at  Naples  and  Sorrento, 
tlic  party  pursued  their  travels  leisurely,  for  several 
iiiunths,  through  Italy  and  Germany,  until  at  length  they 
reached  France.  After  a  visit  at  Paris,  they  located 
themselves  quietly  at  the  chateau  de  llossillon,  whcro 
preparations  were  soon  commenced  for  tlib  marriage. 

It  was  observed,  that  the  lovers,  bup^  osed  to  be  the 
parties  most  particularly  interested,  were  remarkably  iu- 
diUl-rcnt  in  regard  to  these,  aflairs.  "When  needed  for 
consultation  on  important  aiTangements,  they  were  rc- 
I)ortcd  to  be  off,  riding  or  driving  or  wandering  in  sonic 
remote  part  of  the  park,  and  when  at  last,  an  oiiportuulty 


22(5 


MIU.VMICIII. 


occurred  to  present  some  point  for  their  consideration,  they 
seemed  to  have  no  particular  opijiions  on  the  subject. 

With  a  very  decided  taste  of  her  own,  in  matters  of 
dress,  not  less  than  in  other  things,  Adele  could  not  be 
made  to  attend  to  the  details  of  the  trousseau,  and  at  last 
the  two  older  ladies  took  it  into  their  own  hands. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  lovers  were  leading  a  rapturous 
life  in  the  past,  the  present,  the  future.  In  the  past  they 
remembered  the  morning  glories  of  Miramichi ;  in  the 
present  they  saw,  daily,  in  each  other's  eyes,  unfathomcd 
depths  of  love  ;  as  to  the  future  it  shone  out  before  them, 
resplendent  with  the  light  of  an  earthly  Paradise. 

At  last,  the  wedding  day  came,  and  the  parting  between 
Adele  and  her  parents.  It  was  a  great  sacrifice  on  the 
part  of  M.  and  JIdme.  Dubois.  But,  remembering  their 
own  early  trials,  they  made  no  opposition  to  Adele's  choice. 
They  sought  only  her  happiness. 


r  consideration,  they 
on  the  subject, 
own,  in  matters  of 
Adele  could  not  be 
'■ousscau,  and  at  last 
)wn  hands. 
I  leading  a  rapturous 
!.  In  the  past  they 
'  Miramichi ;  in  the 
r's  eyes,  unfathomcd 
)ne  out  before  them, 
ily  Paradise. 
1  the  parting  between 
Teat  sacrifice  on  the 
t,  remembering  their 
ion  to  Adele's  choice. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 


CONCLUSION. 


On  a  dark,  stormy  day,  in  the  winter  of  1845,  at  ten 
o'clock,  aftcrhoon,  a  tall,  stout,  elderly  man,  muffled  in 
fur,  rang  at  the  door  of  ]\Ir.  Lunsdowne. 

The  house  was  large,  of  brown  stone,  and  situated  on 
II —  Street,  in  the  city  of  P . 

As  the  servant  o])encd  the  door,  the  hall  light  fell  upon 
a  face  of  strongly  marked  features,  irradiated  by  an  expres- 
sion of  almost  youthful  cheerfulness.  To  the  inquiry,  if 
]\Ir.  and  Mrs.  Lansdowne  were  at  home,  the  servant  re- 
plied, that  they  were  absent,  but  would  return  shortly. 

"Miss  Adele  is  in  the  drawing-i'oom  sir,"  he  added, 
immediately  throwing  open  the  door  of  that  apartment,  to 
its  widqjt  extent,  as  if  to  insure  the  entrance  of  Mr.  J«[or- 
ton,  for  it  was  no  other  than  the  good  missionary  of  INIira- 
niichi.  He  was  still  the  warmly  cherished  and  highly 
revered  friend  of  the  entire  family. 

Adele,  a  young  lady  of  sixteen,  was  sitting  on  a  low 
seat  in  the  drawing-room,  beneath  a  blaze  of  waxen  candles, 
intently  occupied  with  a  new  book.  She  gave  a  start  on 
being  recalled  so  suddenly  from  the  fancy  land  in  which  she 


228 


MIRASIICni. 


was  roaming,  but  after  a  moment  of  bewilderment,  flung 
aside  her  book,  came  quickly  forward,  put  her  arms  around 
the  neck  of  Mr.  Norton,  who  bent  down  to  receive  them, 
and  welcomed  him  with  a  cordial  kisa. 

•'  Every  day  more  and  more  like  your  mother,  Miss 
Adelc,"  said  he,  as,  after  returning  her  salutation,  beheld 
her  at  arm's  length  and  surveyed  her  from  head  to  foot. 

••  Papa  and  mamma  will  be  home  soon,"  said  Adele. 
'*  They  went  to  dine  at  Mr.  Ilolbrook's.  It  is  time  for 
their  return." 

*♦  All  right,  my  dear.     And  how  arc  you  all?" 

The  young  lady  led  him  to  a  large,  cushioned  arm-chair. 

"  How  did  you  leave  mamma  Norton,  Jenny,  and 
Fanny?" 

"  All  quite  well.  And  they  sent  love ;  "  replied  the 
missionary. 

«'  How  is  Gray  Eagle?" 

"  Ah !  Gray  Eagle  is  good  for  many  a  trot  round  the 
parish  yet." 

*♦  I  have  not  forgotten  how  he  shot  over  the  hills  with 
me,  last  summer.  He  began  his  scamper,  the  moment  I 
was  fairly  seated  on  his  back.  I  hope  he  has  sobered  down 
a  little  since  then,"  said  Adele. 

"  Yes,  I  remember.  Gray  Eagle  knew. well  enough 
that  the  little  sprite  he  carried,  liked  a  scamper  as  well  as 
himself.  The  animal  is  quite  well,  I  thank  you,  and  Is  on 
good  behavior.  So  are  your  other  acquaintances,  Cherry, 
the  cow,  and  Hodge,  the  cat." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it.     I  had  a  charming  visit  at 


u 
a 

II 
h 
a 

y 

a 

0 


jcwilclermcnt,  flung 
lilt  her  arms  around 
,vn  to  receive  them, 

your  mother,  Miss 
r  salutation,  he  held 
om  head  to  foot, 
soon,"    said  Adele. 
k's.     It  is  time  for 

!  you  all?" 
ushioncd  arm-chair. 
Norton,   Jenny,  and 

love ;  "  replied  the 


ny  a  trot  round  the 

over  the  hills  with 
nper,  the  moment  I 
le  has  sobered  down 

knew. well  enough 
scamper  aa  well  as 
hank  you,  and  Is  on 
[uaintances,  Cherry, 

a  charming  visit  at 


Min.uiiciii. 


229 


Rockdale  last  summer.  Johnny  and  Gabrielle  are  wild 
to  go  there.  But  mamma  and  1,  and  all  of  us,  were  so 
disappointed  because  you  would  not  consent  to  Fanny  and 
Jenny  coming  to  spend  the  winter  with  us.  Mam.ua  says 
she  does  not  (juite  understand  yet  why  you  objected.'" 

•«  Ah  I  well,  my  dear,  I'll  make  it  all  right  with  your 
mamma.  The  fact  is,  I  wish  to  get  a  few  rational  ideap 
into  the  hea<1s  of  those  precious  little  ladies  'lefore  they  are 
launched  out  into  city  life.  Just  a  little  ballast  to  keep 
them  from  capsizing  in  u.  gale." 

»♦  Mamma  says  they  are  both  very  much  like  you,"  said 
Adele,  archly. 

<«  True,  my  dear.  That  makes  it  all  the  more  necessary 
to  look  after  them  carefully." 

After  a  few  momenta  of  chat,  Adele  left  the  room  to 
give  orders  for  hastening  supper. 

During  her  absence,  Mr.  Norton,  with  his  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  glowing  grate,  fell  into  a  at  of  musing.  Look 
at  him  a  moment,  while  he  sits  thus,  occupied  with  the 
memories  of  the  past.  Twenty  years  have  passed  since 
lie  was  introduced  to  the  attention  of  the  reader,  a  mission- 
ary to  a  remote  and  benighted  region.  He  is  now  sixty 
years  old,  and  very  few  have  passed  through  greater  toil 
and  hardships  than  he  has  endured,  in  asserting  the  claims 
of  the  Redeemer  to  the  gratitude  and  love  of  the  race. 
-Yet  his  health  and  vigor  of  mind  are  scarcely  impaired, 
and  his  zeal  continues  unabated. 

Beginning  his  journey  early  each  spring  and  returning 
to  his  fimily  late  every  autumn,  he  had  spent  sixteen  suc- 
20  # 


230 


MIRAMICIII. 


ccssive  summers  in  Miramiclii,  engaged  in  self-imposed 
labors.  Each  winter,  he  wrought  at  his  anvil,  and  thus 
hel])ed  to  maintain  an  honest  independence. 

Four  years  previous,  a  parish  having  become  vacant,  in 
the  town  where  he  residal,  it  waa  urged  upon  hia  accept- 
ance, by  the  unanimous  voice  of  the  people.  By  his 
efforts,  a  great  change  had  been  wrought  in  the  field  of 
his  past  labors  and  a  supply  of  suitable  religious  teachers 
having  been  provided  there,  he  accepted  the  invitation  as  a 
call  of  Divine  Providence,  and  had  ministered  to  the  spirit- 
ual wants  of  the  people  of  Rockdale  since. 
^  Business  called  him  occasionally  to  the  city  of  P.  His 
visits  there  were  always  regarded  by  the  Lansdownes  as 
especial  favors.  The  two  families  had  frequently  inter- 
changed visits  and  had  grown  into  habits  of  the  closest 
intimacy. 

Having  been  in  the  city  several  hours  and  dispatched 
tlie  affairs  wliich  drew  him  thither,  he  had  now  come 
to  look  in  upon  his  friends  for  the  night,  expecting  to 
hasten  away  at  day  dawn. 

There  was  something  in  his  situation  this  evening,  thus 
housed  in  warmth,  light,  and  comfort,  protected  from  the 
darkness  and  the  storm  without,  and  ministered  unto  by  a 
lovely  young  maiden,  that  reminded  him  of  a  like  scene, 
that  had  occurred,  twenty  years  ago.  He  vividly  recalled 
the  evening,  when,  after  a  day  of  toil  and  travel  on  th^ 
banks  of  the  distant  Miramichi,  he  reached  the  house  of 
Dubois,  and  how  while  the  tempest  raged  without  he  was 
cheered  by  the  light  and  warmth  within,  and  was  ministered 


11 
li 
ii 
li 
I 
a 

tl 

Ci 

t( 
\\ 
S 
d 
tl 

hi 
ti 

d( 
di 
ai 
ra 
L 
di 
th 

g' 


MIRAMICIU. 


231 


igcd  in  self-imposed 
;  his  anvil,  and  thus 
lencc. 

ig  become  vacant,  in 
fed  upon  hia  accept- 
the  ])eople.  By  his 
>ught  in  the  field  of 
;le  religious  teachers 
ed  the  invitation  as  a 
inistered  to  the  spirit- 
since. 

the  city  of  P.  His 
'  the  Lansdownes  as 
ad  frequently  inter- 
labits  of  the   closest 

lours  and  dispatched 

,  he  had  now  come 

night,  expecting  to 

n  this  evening,  thus 
,  protected  from  the 
ninistered  unto  by  a 
lim  of  a  like  scene, 
He  vividly  recalled 
il  and  travel  on  th^ 
eached  the  house  of 
ged  without  he  was 
1,  and  was  ministered 


unto  by  another  youthful  maiden,  in  form  and  feature  so 
like  her,  who  had  ju«t  loft  him,  that  he  could  almost  imag- 
ine them  the  same.  A  glance  around  the  apartmen°t, 
however,  dispelled  the  momentary  fancy.  Its  rich  and 
beautiful  adornments  afforded  a  striking  contrast  to  the 
appointments  of  that  humble  room. 

lie  was  roused  from  his  meditations  by  the  ringing  of 
the  street  bell,  and  in  a  moment  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lansdowno 
came  forward  to  welcome  their  early  and  long-tried  friend. 

The  good  man,  who  loved  them  with  an  affection  akin 
to  that  which  he  felt  for  his  own  family,  had  preserved  a 
watchful  care  over  their  earthly  and  spiritual  welfare. 
Sometimes  he  feared  that  their  wealth  and  fame  might 
draw  away  their  hearts  from  the  highest  good  and  impair 
the  simplicity  of  their  religious  faith. 

After  the  first  coi  lial  greetings,  in  accordance  with  his 
habit  on  occasions  like  this,  he  indulged  in  a  careful  scru- 
tiny of  his  two  friends. 

Time  had  in  no  wise  impaired  the  charms  of  Mrs.  Lans- 
downe.  Experience  of  life,  maternal  cares,  and  religious 
duties  had  added  a  softer  light  to  her  once  proud  beauty, 
and  her  old  friend  might  well  be  pardoned  a  thrill  of  admi- 
ration as  he  gazed  and  thought  within  his  heart,  that  Mrs. 
Lansdowne,  robed  in  black  velvet,  Mechlin  lace,  and  the 
diamonds  of  the  house  of  Rossillon,  surpassed  in  loveliness, 
the  radiant  Adele  Dubois,  arrayed  in  the  aerial  garments  of 
girlhood. 

When  also  his  keen  eye  had  wandered  over  the  face  and 
figure  of  John  Lansdowne,  it  returned  from  its  explora- 


0'>O 


MIU.\.MICIir. 


tions  satisfied.  No  habits  of  excess  had  impaired  the 
muscular  strength  and  vigor  of  his  form.  Nor  had  un- 
governed  passion,  avarice,  political  craft,  or  disuppuinted 
ambition  drawn  deep  defacing  lives,  to  mar  the  noble 
beauty  of  his  countenance. 

*'  It  is  well  with  thcra  still,"  ejaculated  the  good  man 
mentally,  "  and  may  God  bless  them  forever." 


TUE  £ND. 


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i8    had    impaired    the 

form.     Nor  hud  uii- 

craft,  or  disuppDintod 

I,  to    mar    the    noble 

3ulatcd  tlic  good  man 
1  forever." 


ADELE  DUBOIS: 


A    STORY    OK 


IN    NEW    BHUNSWICK. 


f 


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I'll.!   AiiifHcan   (.'oldiiy  In   Paris,   lN(i7:   What  ilicv  do— |,ow  ilicy 
apimar  to  a   Fifiirjiniaii .        '. 

No  'J'lir.mj.lita.v  :     ,\m    .Amusini;  UurlcwiUf  of    Chnrlf.^    Dii'kenxV 
t;iiristiuis  .Si.irv.      My  Hi'llaiuy   Hrowiijohri. 

.Miss  Tliac  kcr.iy's  f.\(|iiisitc  '■  Fairy  Stories  (or  Grown  Folk.s," 
Louisa  M.  Aicott's  Proverb  Stories, — ("  {iruat  lavoritiw,") 
Was  it  a  (Jhost  V     The  Murder. t  in  Jiii.ssei/'s   tlooit. 

I  Ai,  o.xtrudrcliimiy  Nurrallvo.)  " 

Itiv'-r.l   Di.li:  ,ii-.  .s;,,-,.,.t  i.ifi.  i„  N,.w  York  with  the  Boot-Hlacks. 
Flor.iicf  Manyat's  }iv\*  Novel,  ••  Nt,llie  Hrookc." 

\.w\:    01-,  Marrii-il  froi,,    pj,,,,,,.       A  storv  of  real    lit;-.        From 
till-  (iLTinaii.  ... 


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NKAKLY     KKADY  : 


Mrdusa  and  otlitT  Stories.       By  the   author  of   -A   Week  in  a 
Frcmh  Country  House." 

Ivat..    Fiel.rs    Pen    Photofiraphs  of   Charles    Dickens's    Readinjrs, 
revised  and  fireatly  enlarged  by  several  aniusin}.  chapters. 

Doctor  I.CO  -.  Baron  von   Ober;;  :      A    story  of  Uve    Unspoken. 
iMoni  the  (Terinnn.  ' 


mrSold  hy  all  BookseUo-s  and  Nevmdealers  throughout 

the  Country  — by  the  Book  Mensenycrx  on  the  Railroad  Trains, 
Or  sent  by  Mail,  free  of  Postage,  on  receipt  of  the  adveiilsed  price. 

.HQ    WnBlllTlfrfnn     Slfraaf      Tinat-nr. 


LOKING'S    PrBMCATIONS. 


10.76 
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U)fi\m%  RAILWAY  KOVELS. 

THE   ROUA  FABB  i  or,  Engliihmen  in  th*  HlghUndi. 
TWICE  LOST  I   A  Btory  of  RemarktbU  Power. 
UMNET'B  TEIAL.    By  the  Author  of  Twice  Loil.' 

Florenrt)  Marryat'i  tucrrimt^tt  NovtU. 

LOVE'S   CONFLICT. 

TOO  GOOD   FOR   HIM 

WOMAN   AOAINBT    WOMAN.  .... 

FOE  EVER  AND  EVER 

THE  CONFEBBIONB  OF  OEEALD   EBTCODET. 

NELLY    BEOOKE  ;    A  Homely  Btory 

LOEDB  AND  LADIES.    By  Author  nf 'yu»en  of  the  County 

HUNTED  TO   DEATH  i   A  Btory  of  Lot*  and  Adwntnrt!. 

BAFFLED  ilCHEMEB.    A  SenMtion  Novel. 

THE  FOELOEN  HOPE       By  Komind  Yatkh.     . 

BEOKEN   TO   HAENE8B.  "  "  • 

EUNNING  THE  GAUNTLET.     "  " 

MOODS.      By  Louisa  M.  Alcott. 

A   LOST   LOVE.     By  AsiiroKD  owkn 

PIQUE  ;  A  Tale  of  the  Engliih  Aristocracy.      ■ 

SIMPLICITY  AND   FASCINATION 

MEDUSA   AND   OTHEE   ST0EIE8  .... 

ADELE    DUBOIS  i  A  Story  of  the  lovely  Miramichi  Valley. 

MAINBTONE'8  H0U8EKEEPEE 

LUCYi   Or,  MAEEIED    FEOM   PIQUE.  ■       •       • 

LESLIE    TYEEELL.    By  Okoboiana  M.  Cbaik. 
A  WEEK  IN  A  FEENOH  COUNTEY  HOUSE.  Mad-Sabtoki*.  25 
PEOVEEB   8T0EIE8.     Hv  I-ouiha  M.  Alooit.  36 


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WAS    IT    A    GHOST  p 

The    Murders    in    Buswey's    Wood, 

iH  uot  a  "sensational  "  story,  as  many  suppose.  It  is  a  simple  recital 
of  all  tlje  facts  tliat  are  or  can  be  linown  in  connection  wltli  tliia  I'larlul 
tragedy,  by  one  wlio  lived  in  the  immediate  vicinity.  The  spiritual 
apparition  was  to  him  a  reality. 

A  dual  murder,  so  unaccountable,  sliould  not  be  allowed  to  die  out 
till  Justice  Is  satlstled. 

In  this  sense  this  book  has  a  mission. 


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Be.  It  is  a  simple  recital 
jiiuection  wltii  tliia  t'larlul 
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not  be  allowed  to  die  out 


PIQUE: 

A  Tale  of  the  English  Aristocracy. 

11th  edition.    1vol.     12nio.    Price  $2.00. 


fhreo  thousand  eijrlit  hundred  and  seventy-six  new  hnokH  were 
publiHluid  in  Kiighiiid  this  hist  year,  wlilch  i;*  about  the  average 
niimbor  of  past  years. 

Thirteen  years  ago  Pique  was  first  published  in  London,  and 
ii|>  to  tho  present  time,  notwithstanding  the  enormous  number 
(il  new  boolts  tliut  have  been  issued,  the  ctrect  of  whieh  is  to 
crowd  tlio  ohl  ones  out  of  sight,  this  remarkable  novel  has  con- 
liiiiied  to  have  a  large  sale. 

This  is  tho  strongest  prai.so  that  can  bo  bestowed  on  any  book. 

Ft  is  not  in  tho  least  "  sensational,"  but  relies  solely  on  its  rare 
Ixaiity  of  style  and  truthfulness  to  nature  for  its  popularity. 

It  has  tho  merit  of  being  amusing,  pleasantly  written,  and 
engrossing. 

Tho  characters  being  high-bred  men  and  women,  arc  charm- 
ing companions  for  an  hour's  solitude,  and  one  puts  the  book  oside 
regretfully,  even  as  one  closes  the  eyes  on  a  delicious  vision. 
The  American  edition  has  taken  every  one  by  surprise,  that  so 
ivniarkably  good  a  novel  should  have  so  long  escaped  attention. 

livery  body  is  charmed  with  it,  and  its  sale  is  immense,  and 
"ill  endure  for  yours  to  come. 


FilTH  mum  GIRLHOOD. 


By  tho  Author  of  "Boys  at  OLuquassut." 


11th  edition.     1  vol.,  12mo.    Cloth.     Prlco  f  1.78. 


Tliis  charming  story  (HIm  a  void  long  felt  for  Houiotliing  for  iv 
young  girl,  growing  into  womanhood,  to  road. 

It  dcpictH  that  hc^viteliing  period  in  life,  lying  botwccn  Forn- 
TED.v  uud  TWKNTY,  witii  ilH  noblo  nupirutions,  and  IVw^h  cntlmsi- 
iiHin.  It  is  written  by  a  very  aeconipliHlied  hidy,  whoso  j)rcvious 
b<tok  was  universally  pronounced  to  be  "  tho  best  Boy»'  book 
written." 

A  lady  of  rare  culture,  and  wido  experience,  says,  — 

"  '  Fiiitli  Giirtnpy'H  Girlliooil,*  is  a  nolili',  pood  work,  thiit  could  only 
li.ive  been  iicfoiiiiillHhod  by  an  ulevatod  iiiind  unitml  to  a  chaste,  tomler 
hi'art.  From  tho  first  jia),'!)  to  tiie  hint,  tlie  iinpri'ssion  is  received  of  u  lifo 
whleli  has  buL'n  lived;  tlio  char.iuturfl  are  genuine,  well  drawn,  skilfUlly 
Iiri'Honted ;  they  are  received  ul  once  with  kind,  friendly  greetinfr,  and 
followed  with  interest,  till  tliv  last  pa(?e  compels  a  reluctant  farewell. 

'"Tho  book  la  written  for  girls,  growing  as  they  grow  to  womanhood.' 
The  story  has  an  interest,  far  beyond  that  £>und  in  nio  lern  romances 
of  tho  day,  conveyed  in  p  ire,  refined  language;  suggestive,  pleasirat 
thoughts  are  unfolded  on  every  page;  the  rcllectivo  and  descriptive 
passages  aro  natural,  simple,  and  exquisitely  finished. 

"  In  these  days,  when  tho  tendency  of  society  is  to  educnto  girls  for 
heartless,  aimless,  factitious  life,  a  hook  like  this  is  to  be  welcomed  and 
rrratefuU y  received.  AV  herever  it  is  read,  it  will  be  retained  as  a  thought- 
ful, euggestiv      -if  silent  —  friend." 

g^^jp  Parents^  give  it  a  icidc  circulation. 


Margaret  and  her  Bridesmaids. 

IIY   1111%   AlTHOn   OP 

"The  Lady   of  Glynne,"   "Mr.   and  IVIrs.  A.Bhtoii," 

"Valley  of  a  Huntlred  Kires,"  "The  Ijtvdies 

of    Love!   Leigli,"    "  Tlie    Challenso," 

"  Xlie   Queen   of  the  County." 
3d  edition.     1  vol.,  12nio.    Cloth.    Price  $2.00. 


This  talented  authoress  ranks  first  among  the  successful  female  novel 
writers  of  Engliunl.  Her  books  are  inimensoly  popular  there;  eilition 
after  edition  of  vaeh  has  been  called  for,  and  tlie  announcement  of  a  new- 
one  from  lier  pen  creates  a  new  demand,  and  increases  the  popularity 
of  what  hits  been  pulilished.  By  an  arrangement  witli  iier  and  lier  Kng- 
lisli  publisiiors,  all  her  books  are  to  be  brouglit  before  tlie  American 
public,  where  she  is  almost  wholly  unknown,  excei)t  to  the  readers  at 
l.ORING'.S  CIllCULATING  LIliRAUY,  and  tiiey  arc  cntlmsiastic 
over  tliem. 

"Margaret  and  Her  Bridesmaids"  is  the  one  chosen  to  introduce 
her  witli,  as  this,  she  writes  me,  has  enjoyed  the  greatest  popularity  in 
England.  This  will  be  followed  by  "Tim  Queen  of  tub  County,"  and 
the  others,  as  fast  as  compatible. 

It  is  the  history  of  four  school-girls. 

The  London  AfhoMtun,  the  highest  literary  authority,  says  of  it:  "  Wo 
may  save  ourselves  the  trouble  of  giving  any  lengtliened  review  of  this 
book,  for  we  reconmiend  all  who  are  in  search  of  a  fascinating  novel,  to 
read  it  for  themselves.  They  will  find  it  well  worth  their  while.  Thero 
is  a  freshness  and  originality  about  it  qmte  cluirming,  and  there  is  a  cer- 
tain nobleness  in  the  treatment,  both  of  sentiment  and  incident,  wliich  is 
not  often  found.  Wo  imagine  that  few  can  read  it  without  deriving  some 
comfort  or  profit  from  the  quiet  good  sense  and  unobtrusive  words  of 
counsel  with  wliich  it  abounds." 

The  story  is  very  interesting.  It  is  the  history  of  four  school-fellows. 
SFargaret,  the  heroine,  is,  of  course,  a  woman  in  the  highest  state  of 
perfection.  But  Lotty— the  little,  wilful,  wild,  fascinating,  brave  Lotty 
—  IS  the  gem  of  the  book,  and,  as  far  as  our  experience  in  novel  reading 
!-'r>(>s,  is  an  entirely  original  character  —  a  creation  —  and  a  very  charm- 
ing one.  No  story  that  occurs  to  our  memory  contains  more  intircst 
lliaii  this  for  novel  readers,  particularly  those  of  the  tender  sex,  to  whom 
it  will  be  a  dear  favorite. 

We  hope  the  authoress  will  give  us  some  more  novels,  as  good  as 
'•  Margaret  and  her  Bridesmaids." 


T^VICE    LOST. 

A.    IVOVEri. 

By  S.  M.,  Author  of  "Linnet's  Trial." 

Tloncl   tlic    Opinions    or  llio    T^nsllBli    I*roRN. 

Ailotlii'r  first-riitc  novrl  liy  n  womnn  !  The  plot  well  coucoIvimI  aiul  workcil  out ,  tlifi 
eharni'tcrs  individtiiilizod  iiiut  clciir-cut,  and  the  story  so  ndniiriihly  told  tliat  you  nro 
hlirrioil  ulonf;;  for  two  hours  nnd  ii  liitlf  with  u  smilo  often  hrcakln;;' out  at  the  lMi;nor, 
It  tear  ready  to  start  at  the  pathos,  nnd  with  unlliitfi^nij  uitcrest,  till  the  heroine's  re- 
lease from  all  trouble  is  annouueod  at  the  end.  *  *  •  Wc  heartily  reeoniinend  tlio 
book  to  all  readers.  It  is  more  full  of  chnraeter  than  any  book  we  remember  einco 
Cliiirles  Kendo's  "  Christie  Johnstone."  — yiVo</«r, 

"  Twice  Lost"  isanentortiUning  novel ;  the  stnigplc  between  the  hi8:h-Bpirlted,ffcn- 
crous,  half-SBvage  heroine,  and  her  speeious,  handsome,  unprineipled,  aoitlisant 
father,  is  exciting ;  and  the  sympathy  of  the  reader  is  cleverly  enlisted  for  tho 
heroine,  Lueia,  from  the  first  moment.  The  perHonnj,'es  have  nil  of  tliem  n  certain 
look  of  reality,  and  there  is  a  notion  of  likeness  which  insures  the  render's  interest. 
AVe  cnn  recommend  "  T\*icc  Lost "  as  a  novel  worth  rendinj,'.— .I/Aolthki. 

Ily  fnr  the  cleverest  book  on  our  list  is  "  Twice  Lost."  *  *  *  This  is  bold  nnd 
nkilnil  drawing,  imd  it  is  a  fair  sample  of  the  earlier  hnlf  of  the  volume.  The  com- 
bined vigor,  ensc,  and  perspicuity  of  the  writing  is  unusual.  —  Guarduin. 

Nothing  can  hii  better  of  its  kind  than  the  first  portion  of  •'  Twlec^  Lost."  *  *  « 
Till!  caustic  humor  nnd  strong  common  scinse  which  mark  the  i  ketches  of  i.'liaracter 
in  this  book,  betray  a  keenness  of  observation  and  aptitude  foi  prodiiiingn  telling 
likeness  with  a  few  strokes,  which  need  only  a  wider  cnltivntici  to  secure  n  nioro 
comi)Iete  success  than  has  been  nttnined  in  "  Twice  Lost."  —  Wculniiiinler  Ilerieir, 

It  is  quite  clear  that  the  author  has  given  a  good  deal  of  thoiijjht  to  the  couHtruc- 
tiou  of  the  story,  with  a  viev  to  producing  strong  Interest  without  the  use  of  the 
common  sensntlonal  expedients.  To  say  that  "  Twice  Lost "  is  very  well  written, 
and  very  interesting,  wouUl  not  be  doing  it  justice.  —  Morning  Herald, 

There  can  bo  no  doubt  of  the  author's  power.  She  holds  hiT  characters  and  inc  i- 
dents  well  In  hand,  writes  firmly,  and  often  very  happily,  nnd  there  nrc  mimy  pas- 
eagi'S  which  indicate  power  much  above  mediocrity.  —  London  lieview. 

Not  very  often  do  we  meet  with  a  novel  so  thoroughly  good  as  "  Twice  Lost."  If, 
as  may  be  assumed  from  both  sulijcct  and  style,  its  author  is  a  woman,  she  may  at 
once  be  chisseil  with  the  IJronle  sistiTs  and  George  Kliot.  She  has  the  firm  coiici'i)- 
tion  and  distinct  touch  of  the  flrst-cluss  artist.  Her  characters  are  real  and  indi- 
vidual. —  I'reas, 

'I  Ilia  is  a  well-written  romantic  talc,  in  which  we  find  many  iilensing  incidents  and 
some  successful  portraiture  of  character.  The  character  of  Miss  lierwent,  the  com- 
panion nnd  governess  of  the  heroine.  Miss  Langicy,  is  very  well  develoix'd  In  tho 
course  of  the  narrative.  Tho  moral  tone  of  the  book  is  very  good,  and  so  fnr  as  re- 
lijtimis  mutters  nrc  touched  upon,  they  arc  treated  with  propriety  and  revereucc. 
—  Knglish  Churchman. 

The  characters  arc  well  drawn  — the  sitnations  arc  new,  the  sentiments  are  nn  sen- 
timental, and  the  incidental  remarks  those  of  a  clever  woman  who  is  reasonable  imd 
tolerant.—  Globe. 

Tho  plot  of  this  tale  is  an  originotone,  and  well  worked  out.  •  *  ♦  We  can  sin- 
cerely recoiiimcnd  this  tale ;  it  is  quite  out  of  the  general  run  of  books,  and  is  sure  to 
prove  an  interesting  one. —  Observer. 

■\Vc  notice  this  story  because  Its  authoress  will  one  day,  wo  believe,  produce  a 
powerful  novel,  —  Spectator, 

The  reader  is  carried  along  with  unflagging  and  exciting  interest  -..1  the  book  is 
full  of  characters  finely  sketi'lied,  ami  of  passages  powcri'ully  writtin.—  P'Urlot. 

That  the  author  of  "  Twice  Lost  "  can  write  well,  the  book  itself  furnishes  sufii- 
riciit  evidence.  —  Xation. 

'i'liis  is  n  striking  story.  It  hns  a  (Veidiness  nnd  originality  nbout  it  which  nre  very 
pleasant.  —  Morning  Aarertiser, 

Without  being  a  sensation  rovel  this  Is  a  most  exciting  and  attractive  story.  — 
Daily  \cws. 

A  most  romantic  story,  the  interest  being  well  sustained  tliroughout,  ami  every 
tliiug  coming  right  at  ( "lo  end.    Any  one  must  be  entertained  by  it.  —  John  Jiull. 


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